Tales of Spira: The Beginning
by Spira's Bard
Summary: Before becoming one of the most feared and hated creatures in all of Spira's history, Yevon was just a man who wanted what was best for his people. Please review!
1. Chapter 1: The Beginning

The young man sat on the rock at the edge of the sea and studied his toes. They were pale, narrow and somewhat delicate-looking to his eyes. _Not the toes of a warrior,_ he mused. He wiggled them into the sand and enjoyed the simple sensation. Had things turned out differently, he might have become a merchant trader. He chuckled to himself at the thought of what his wife might have had to say to that idea! He shaded his eyes, looked out over the water and sighed. He had always loved the sea. He thought sometimes that the Farplane must be like that... calm and endless. He sighed again. Such a vast difference from _his_ daily life. There was always someone clamoring for his attention...

"My lord?" a gruff voice said, behind him. Yevon closed his eyes, the only outward sign of his irritation. "Yes, Captain?" he said, evenly. "The ship awaits your pleasure, Lord." The captain made a hasty bow. _Obviously not_, Yevon thought, sourly. _Ah, well. Duty calls_. Yevon rose gracefully and brushed the loose sand from his lightweight traveling robes.

The delicate and decidedly unofficial embroidery along the cuffs and hem were his lady wife's work. She felt the embroidery was one way she could be with him on this journey. Her pregnancy had been difficult and the healers had forbade her anything that might cause her to strain herself. Yevon had, on a number of occasions, found himself surreptitiously rubbing the stitches when his temper began to rise. Mira would be pleased to know she'd been able to help, if even a little.

He shook the remaining water from his feet and reached for the kidskin boots that were also part of his 'uniform', although terribly impractical for actual use, as his abused feet could testify. Once the mantle of dignity was firmly back in place, he joined his Captain of the Guards and allowed himself to be escorted back to the ship.

He had heard that this diplomatic mission had been arranged by his predecessor long before the Challenge for Ascension had ended his reign. Yevon suspected that it had been expected to be more of an extended holiday than any serious attempt at diplomacy. He shuddered at the memory of the day they had arrived at the Bikanel Islands.

He had spent most of the trip pouring over what little information they had on the tribe that called Bikanel 'Home'. The only notes he'd been able to find referred to the perfect weather, untouched beaches, and local gastronomic delicacies. The only concession to the 'mission' had been a brief mention of the possible roots of the local language. His secretaries and minor advisors had assured him that he needn't worry, that the Minister of Relations had always handled most of the official communications with 'these people'. Being relatively new to the position himself, Yevon decided this once, he'd best follow the advice of those who had done this many times before.

As he and his retinue had disembarked at the seaport, the Minister of Relations had stepped forward and said very slowly and clearly "THE RULER...OF ZANARKAND...GREETS THE ...uh...AL BEED!" Yevon had been horrified. He saw the man that his minister had addressed clench his jaw in clear irritation, and had hurriedly stepped forward. He bowed low and smiled at the irritated man. "Forgive my minister, this is his first mission." He heard his Minister of Relations begin an angry protest and stepped backwards onto his minister's foot. "I am Lord Yevon, High Summoner, and Ruler of Zanarkand." He bowed again and waited, hoping for the best.

There was silence for a moment as the Al Bhed sized him up, and then, finally, a man stepped out from the crowd. "_I_ am the leader of my people, " he said carefully, in Yevon's own language. "I am known as Dukot." He inclined his head at Yevon, raising a brow in challenge. Yevon allowed himself a slight twitch of the lips at the stunned silence of his retinue, and began the diplomatic mission.

Yevon smiled to himself at the memory of the outrage of his ministers and aides at his actions during the past seven days. Not only had he insisted on speaking to Dukot face-to-face like some low-level administrator, he had treated Dukot as an _equal_! Unheard of! Yevon was_ surely _bringing shame to all of Zanarkand by lowering himself to this level!

Yevon ignored the impassioned pleas of his advisors and set out to learn about the Al Bhed. He sampled the delicacies and pleasures of the Bikanel Islands. Seafood was unsurprisingly one of the main staples of their diet. They prepared it in an amazing variety of ways, however. Yevon thought he may have sampled them all, during his stay. He toured the primary settlement on the main island and asked numerous questions of Dukot, comparing the more casual style of government to his own. Dukot was amused by the multi-layered tier-system of Zanarkand. Eyes twinkling, Dukot suggested streamlining the system by doing away with the ministers. Yevon said wryly that he was considering it.

Despite the assurances of his Minister of Relations that the Al Bhed were a simple people, uneducated and uncivilized, Yevon found Dukot and his people to be dignified and technologically brilliant. He learned of this 'knack' after he had offered to have a group of Dukot's people tour the ship. When the delegation returned, he found that not only had they grasped the concept of the hover drive, they had many well-thought out suggestions for improving the efficiency! It was at this point he had invited a group of Al Bhed engineers to come back with them for a cultural and technological exchange. At this news, the Minister of Relations retired to his rooms in distress for the remainder of the visit.

The muffled shouts of the Bikanel fishermen hauling in their catches brought Yevon out of his musings. He looked up to see a small crowd of Al Bhed clustered along the walkway leading to the ship. His Captain of the Guard tensed, automatically scanning for threats. Yevon touched his guard's arm gently. "It's okay, Captain. I believe they are just seeing us off."

Up on the deck of the ship, he could see his people waiting impatiently to be off. They were eager to return to 'civilization', after such a long stay in such primitive facilities. It was amazing how very much people relied on modern technology, Yevon thought dryly. Give them a paradise, full of the natural wonders of Spira, and they whine about missing their favorite vidshow.

With a significant lack of fanfare, Dukot met them at the entry port and clasped his hands warmly in the Al Bhed fashion. "May we always learn from each other." Yevon bowed and replied, "And may we never forget what we have learned." Dukot smiled. "Farewell, Yevon of Zanarkand." he said, solemnly. Nodding once, he turned and walked into the crowd.

Zanarkand.

"The City That Never Sleeps" some wit on a vidshow called it after the Council agreed to extend working hours to both second and third cycles. The name stuck, becoming a badge of pride over the years. With citizens from any given cycle up and active at all hours of the day and night, it became commonplace that there was always _something_ entertaining going on _somewhere_ in the city, at any given time. After dark, the city slowly lit up in a dazzling array of glittering lights, and vid screens displaying the latest news or gizmo, painting the sea around Zanarkand in a variety of color. People visiting from outlying areas rarely had _any_ difficulty finding the city that never sleeps...

It seemed to most that the city had been blessed. It ran a booming tourist trade and had always been known to accept and incorporate new ideas and new 'ways'. Personal styles ranged from the austere to the outlandish, and 'making an entrance' had become an unofficial sport. The citizenry were fiercely proud of their city and were always amused at the culture shock that almost anyone new to the city went through.

Seated at the foot of the Gagazet mountain range, and otherwise cradled on all sides by the sea, Zanarkand was actually fairly isolated from the usual trade routes. Despite this disadvantage, it still drew people from all over Spira, because of it's technological wonders, and remarkable cultural hodgepodge.

The people of Zanarkand had always been innately curious, and their technology enabled them to explore the world in ways that no one had ever thought of before. The most menial jobs were handled by machinery, so that the average citizen was free to live a more personally satisfying life. They were encouraged to educate themselves, either through one of the guilds, or through any of the learning centers scattered throughout the area. With Zanarkand's technological advancements, it's people had access to research and studies done by experts, and so increased the average knowledge pool. People of all ages were encouraged to learn a new trade or skill, should they show an aptitude. It was rare, indeed, to find someone with an occupation that they were unhappy with. With the opportunity for unlimited improvement, people most naturally found positions that they had a talent for, and that satisfied them.

The government was a balance of monarchy and democracy, with the ruler being informed and guided by a council composed of leaders of the primary guilds, representing a wide swath of citizenry. Rule of the city was neither inherited nor voted in. Any Summoner could challenge for rulership, as long as they could prove they were strong enough to protect their city, should it come to it. Such challenges were allowed once a year, although the challenge was hardly ever given.

In general, life in Zanarkand was a testament to the idea of free thinking and mutual acceptance. The supposed pinnacle of modern times...

"Lord Legolas! A moment of your time, sir!" huffed a slightly overweight man, waving an arm as he jogged after the Chief Advisor.

Legolas frowned. _Now what?_ He slowed his pace to allow the other to catch up to him.

"Has Lord Yevon received the update on the council meeting tomorrow?" the older man wheezed. Legolas smothered a grin. "Yes, Dren, he has. You can tell Lord Nicos not to worry. I'll get him there."

Legolas clapped Dren on the shoulder and resumed his march, leaving Dren behind to catch his breath.

As he entered the personal quarters of the Ruler, he was stopped twice by the warriors who protected Yevon's expectant wife. It was standard procedure, and yet it never failed to amuse him that they would challenge the man they _knew_ spent most of his day keeping Yevon informed and where he needed to be at any given time.

Lady Mira was seated in front of the 'screen transcribing one of the many findings of the Scholar's guild. It was in her nature to keep things orderly, and she hated to see the hard work of anyone not be safely recorded into the data files. As a trained Scholar, it had been her job before Yevon had been chosen, and despite her new status, she couldn't stay away. It was one of the many things that Yevon found charming.

Legolas walked over to where she was toiling, and then stopped when she raised one slender finger. Lower lip caught between her teeth, she brushed one silvery lock out of her eyes, and kept typing. He heard her muttering to herself as she typed, and he could tell she was nearing completion. He strolled over to a small couch and sat down, swinging his long legs onto the nearby settee.

"Aaand...done!" she exclaimed, triumphantly. She swung around and grinned at him. "Sorry about that! I've been on that one for too long to lose track of it now!" She snagged an apple out of a decorative bowl of fruit and took a bite. "What's up?" she said, around her mouthful.

"Just wanted to let you know that Yevon's ship is docking and he should be here soon." Legolas said, nonchalantly. Mira let out a very undignified squeal, her eyes lighting up. "I've been waiting all day for that news!" She heaved herself up out of her chair and headed for her rooms. "I have to get something else on! This makes me look _fat_!" she called over her shoulder. Legolas shook his head and grinned. Trust a woman in her eighth month of pregnancy to worry about looking fat!


	2. Chapter 2: History's Lessons

Lord Sambrian was a very busy man. His office was one of the most respected in all of Zanarkand, and one of the most consulted in Spira. And now that his unruly protege had been made ruler, his life was twice as stressful. What _had_ Yevon been thinking? It was a thought that passed through his mind at least twice a day. Usually accompanied by gritted teeth and a headache.

Now, Sambrian found himself in the unenviable position of tutoring the most powerful man in Zanarkand. Or at least, trying to. Now that his duties were to his people, Yevon had little time to spare. And yet, Sambrian thought somewhat frantically, he _must_ complete his training! Yevon had passed the initial tests to become a full-fledged summoner, and had somehow managed to overpower the ruler of Zanarkand in the Challenge! In the stunned aftermath, no one quite knew what to think- a novice summoner, _defeating_ the High Summoner of Zanarkand? _Impossible_.

But that was precisely what Yevon had done. Twice, after the council demanded proof. And according to the founding laws of Zanarkand, only the most powerful Summoner could rule the city. Which left the council no choice but to accept a virtually untried Summoner as the sole ruler of Zanarkand.

Powerful, without a doubt! Trained in all the myriad diplomatic nuances and histories? No. And that was where Lord Sambrian came in. It was his job, foisted upon him by the rest of the council, to get the young ruler 'up to speed' so to speak. And _that_ was a challenge that Sambrian struggled with, daily.

Sambrian found himself in the corridor leading to the royal wing of the palace. Up ahead he could see the guards standing one on each side of the entrance. Unassuming men, both of them. One moderate-sized, with pale eyes and sandy hair, the other tall and youthful looking. Sambrian knew the both of them were mage-trained warriors. Not many had the courage to challenge them.

"I require an audience with his Lordship." Sambrian told them, calmly.

"I will see if his Lordship is available, Lord Sambrian." said the taller of the two, bowing slightly.

As his companion closed the heavy, ornate door behind him, the smaller one crossed his arms and appeared to relax his stance. However, Sambrian was no fool. The young warrior had just shifted his weight and put his blades within easy reach, should Sambrian be feeling suicidal and decide to attack.

Lord Sambrian tucked his hands into the sleeves of his heavy robes and waited. He entered a light meditative trance, as all Summoners are trained to do in their earliest lessons. Self control and self awareness were one of the cornerstones of their doctrines.

Presently the guard returned. "This way, my lord." he said, gesturing to the corridor behind him. Sambrian inclined his head briefly at the two and entered the royal quarters.

Lord Yevon and Lady Mira were standing together near one of the tall windows on the south side of the room. The heavy curtains had been thrown open and sunlight flooded the sitting room. Legolas, as was his nature, was sprawled on the couch nearby.

"Am I not even allowed time to properly greet my Lady wife, Lord Sambrian?" smiled Yevon, as Sambrian entered the room.

Sambrian crossed the room, pushed one of Legolas' legs out of the way and sat down next to him. He raised one bushy eyebrow and peered over his glasses at Mira, noting her mussed hair and slightly swollen lips. "It was given to me to understand that your Lady wife was to refrain from _all_ 'stressful activities'" Sambrian said, blandly.

Legolas broke into a muffled coughing fit at Yevon's sour expression and Mira's pink cheeks.

"You wished to see me?" Yevon said, finally.

"Yes. The Bicentennial celebration is fast approaching, and I believe we need to go over plans for the ceremonies." Sambrian said, reaching into his robes for his datapad.

"Ah! Yes, I'm so glad you brought that up, Lord Sambrian!" Yevon said, enthusiastically. "This trip, learning from the Al Bhed, it's given me an idea." Yevon crossed the room to stand in front of Sambrian. "I believe it's time to reopen relations with Bevelle."

Silence fell. Legolas studied the paralyzed expression on Sambrian's face with some alarm.

Slowly Sambrian brought his hands away from his robes and laid them carefully on his lap. "And what in the world makes you think this is an acceptable idea?" Sambrian said somewhat stiffly.

Ignoring Sambrian's forbidding look, Yevon began to pace, warming to his idea. "Two hundred years ago, we left Bevelle, and never looked back. We've prospered, and grown, and I think the final step would be to come to a peaceful accord with our ancient enemy." Yevon smiled, and looked back at his audience. All of them had varying degrees of dismay on their faces.

"Oh, come on!" Yevon said, exasperated. "It's been a couple hundred years! I bet they don't even remember why we were at war!"

"_We_ do." Sambrian said, flatly.

"There is a saying about Bevelle," Sambrian continued, quietly. "That which they cannot understand, they destroy." He paused, considering the best way to say what he needed to tell his ruler. "Do you recall the history of the founding of Zanarkand?" he asked Yevon, setting down his datapad and folding his hands in front of himself.

Puzzled at Sambrian's vehemence, Yevon nodded. "Of course. Every child knows the tale of the Journey of the Founders."

Sambrian gestured for him to continue. Yevon looked at his mentor, frowning. "At the end of the great war, the people left the city of Bevelle, and followed Lord Zane into the wilderness. Many died along the way, but so great was the need, that they continued the journey. At long last, they came to a great mountain, and met it's guardians, the mighty Ronso tribe. They took pity on the poor travelers and gave them shelter. They agreed that the people could settle on the far side of the mountain, as long as they should honor Mount Gagazet and never harm it's people."

Sambrian shook his head wearily. " A child's tale, sanitized for their innocence." He rubbed a hand over his lined face. "Our people were slaves at best. Slaughtered to near extinction because of Bevelle's beliefs." he chuckled humorlessly.

Yevon looked blankly at Sambrian. "I thought the reasons for the war were lost to history. Where are you getting this from?"

"Only the young believe two hundred years is an eternity." Sambrian said, lips twisting wryly. "The reasons for our 'rebellion' have not been forgotten by the elders." he sighed, deeply. "The knowledge is preserved deep in the archives, by the Scholars guild."

Mira looked up, sharply. "What? I have never been told of any such files!" she said. "Important knowledge such as this should be made public record, if what you say is true!"

Sambrian smiled sadly. "The founders hoped to raise their children as they were meant to be raised, neither wallowing in self-pity, nor basking in false pride. So they refused to speak of what had happened, choosing to let it fade into obscurity. Hoping to forget. Yet those in the Scholar's guild could not bear to let history fade completely. They made a record and buried it deep in the archives, so that should the need arise, it would be there."

Yevon shook his head. "Why do _you_ know?"

"I am part of the Council. In order to protect the people of Zanarkand, we must know our sad history." Sambrian said, simply.

Yevon leaned forward, angrily. "And I am the _ruler_ of those selfsame people! How is it that _I _have not been told?"

"There were those that thought that your youth would lead you to a rash decision, should you be told. Although I believe the fear was that you would declare war, not offer the hand of friendship..."Sambrian chuckled dryly.

Yevon put his hands on his hips. "Tell me. Now."

Sambrian raised an eyebrow at Yevon's tone. "As you wish. Don't blame me for the nightmares it leaves you with."

He settled himself and cleared his throat softly. "They called them 'The tainted ones'- the children born with the magegift. It was believed that such a child was not fully human. A clear sign of their parent's disloyalty to 'The One'. Thus was their child born part fiend." began Sambrian, steepling his fingers in front of him.

"_What_? Part_ fiend_? Are you _insane_?" shouted Legolas, angrily.

Sambrian glared at Legolas. "I do not excuse it, Legolas. I merely tell how it was." He took a steadying breath and continued.

"Most children born thus, were...'purified'...by drowning them in the presence of a priest. It was felt that the human half of the soul was freed at death and went on to the Farplane. It was even considered a kindness by some."

"You are speaking of murdering _children_," Mira said, horrified.

Sambrian nodded. "Yes. Although some escaped, obviously. Their parents teaching them to deny their gifts in order to survive." he shook his head, sadly.

"Summoners...now _summoners_ were bred. Like dogs, I imagine." Sambrian continued, stiffly. "They needed _us_ to send the dead _they_ had created in order to protect themselves from the resulting fiends. Every household had it's own pet Summoner. Mere servants, of course, denied an education, and kept isolated from others of their kind, including their parents."

"Lord Zane (although he was not called 'Lord' _anything_ at that time) was born into a household of a minor lord, and given the task of watching over his firstborn son. The two grew to be as brothers, and life in that household was fairly good. Until Zane found the younger boy lighting candles with flames he could call to his fingertips." Sambrian said, waving his own fingers in emphasis.

"Zane was horrified, knowing what would happen, should anyone discover this. He desperately ordered Del to never do such a thing again. As you know, denying such a gift is nearly impossible. The boys discovered that when angry, he would sometimes forget, and instinctively call flames to his hands. Desperately, Zane asked some of the other servants to tell him about the 'tainted ones'. Amusing herself by trying to frighten Zane, one old woman told him of a group of 'tainted ones' that met secretly to practice their 'Dark Arts' in the woods outside of Bevelle, during the dark of the moon. Gathering his courage the following week, Zane took Del into the woods, looking for the help he needed." Sambrian looked at Mira, who had leaned forward, entranced by the tale.

"The Mages found the boys lost, and wandering helplessly. Suddenly surrounded by strangers who he had been taught to from birth to fear, Zane thrust Del behind him and challenged those he feared would slay them both where they stood. The Mages, however, were equally terrified that the boys would bring down the wrath of the priests of Bevelle. They stared at each other for a bit, and finally Zane asked them for aid. Once the problem was out in the open the frightened Mages gladly agreed to train Del in the ways to control his gift. In return, Zane swore to never reveal the Mages existence."

Sambrian paused for a moment. "Unfortunately, destiny had other plans for the two boys."


	3. Chapter 3: Forging the Future

A servant entering the room broke the spell Sambrian's words had woven. At her stricken expression, Mira hastened to assure the poor woman that she hadn't interrupted anything vital.

Legolas got up from the sofa, walked over to the window and looked out, without really seeing anything. "Unbelievable," he muttered.

Yevon distractedly ran a hand through his hair, and sighed heavily. Mira returned to the group and said, quietly "I've sent her for more refreshments." Sambrian gratefully took the cold glass of water Mira offered him and took a long swallow to ease his dry throat.

"So this Del was a mage?" Legolas said from the window. "How did he escape this 'purification'?"

Sambrian looked at him for a long moment. "Through careful study with the rogue mages, and much discipline, Del learned to curb his natural impulses. Luckily for him, with all of his energies devoted to denying his magegift instead of honing it as we do today, he was able to form a strong mental block, which soon became as instinctive as breathing." Sambrian said after a pause.

"By the time he was sixteen, and Zane twenty-four, Del had grown into a fine young man with a good future ahead of him. He'd found a woman that he'd come to love, and planned to make her his wife. Zane, too, had prospered, after a fashion. As he matured, his own gifts had strengthened, and with the constant use sending the poor souls 'purified' by the Bevelle priests, he had honed his talents and become one of the most powerful summoners in Bevelle. As such, he was a much sought after commodity. He was a fine asset to his master's household." Sambrian said, with just a touch of bitterness.

Sambrian paused again. "So it was no surprise when he was woken from his sleep with a 'request' to aid one of the local priests. Heavy-hearted, he followed the messenger to a clearing on the property. He always dreaded finding one of the mages that had been secretly helping Del."

Sambrian sighed heavily.

"In the clearing he had been brought to, at the foot of the priest who'd called for him, he saw the bound and lifeless body of Del. His clothing still clinging to his limp form from the 'purification rite', Del's lifeless eyes gazed up at the night sky." Sambrian reached for his glass once again, not meeting Mira's stricken gaze.

"Apparently a group of thieves had surprised Del and his young fiancé as they traveled home from a social gathering of their peers. In order to protect the girl, Del had thrown up a wall of flames and kept them from savaging her." Sambrian sighed. "Naturally, the girl denounced him and turned him in to the authorities."

"It was only his training as a summoner that kept his grief at bay long enough for Zane to send the soul of the one who was as a brother to him. Later that terrible night, Zane would break down and weep into his pillow, but not yet. The priest's eyes bore into his own as they sought any shred of evidence that Zane had known of Del's...difference."

Sambrian's face hardened. "Zane met his gaze with a clear conscience. He knew he had no reason for guilt. Del and all the others like him were innocents. The priests murdered in the name of their 'One' and called it devotion. Zane would not accept it any longer."

"It was then that Lord Zane decided that it must end. He left his household and became a rebel. He gathered the rogue mages and the few sympathizers he knew of and began the campaign that would end in the freedom of our forefathers. It was his determination and sheer willpower that freed us all." Sambrian said, ringingly.

Legolas frowned. "What, he just walked in and said, 'No more'?" He stared at Sambrian. "A bit abrupt, don't you agree? There must be more to it then that!"

Sambrian waved a hand, dismissing the details. "It was a bloody conflict, with tragic deaths on both sides. It ended when Zane and the High Priest of Bevelle...negotiated a treaty. We left, and they let us go. End of story, really."

He stood, smoothing his robes and settling back into his role as advisor. "Enough of this. Yevon, do you understand, now, why we do not have 'relations' with Bevelle?"

Yevon stood silently. He moistened his lips and looked at his wife. "I don't know."

Sambrian threw up his hands in disgust. "You are an idealist! Would you have us back in chains?" He strode to the door and opened it. "Think hard on what I have told you this day, Yevon. What you propose will change _everything_ we have worked hard for, one way or the other." In frustration, Sambrian left.

"Wow." breathed Legolas, staring after him.

Mira put her hand on Yevon's shoulder and looked up at him. After a moment he put his hand over hers and turned around. "I don't think I've ever seen him lose control of himself like that." he said, curiously.

Mira looked back at the door Sambrian had closed behind him. "No, he doesn't let anything get to him like that did." she agreed. "But, if his story is true..."

Legolas looked at the other two. "If that story is true, the Bevellians have much to answer for." he said, flatly.

"Legolas. Think!" Yevon sighed. "It's been two _hundred_ years! The people he spoke of have been gone for a long time. We cannot assume the people of today are the same as they were!" He began to pace again. "I will not hold their descendants responsible for crimes committed so long ago."

Yevon stopped abruptly and said, "Gather a party of diplomats. I would suggest the less showy the better. We don't want them to think we're a raiding party. Warn them that the Bevellians may take offense to magecraft." He smiled. "It's time we learned to forgive and forget."

* * *

The council chambers were in an uproar. Yevon sat with his head in his hands and tried to hold on to his temper.

"Are you _mad_?"demanded Councillor Benkat. "That city is built on the blood of our ancestors! It is _cursed_! And you suggest having them celebrate our survival from their torment _with_ us?"

Councillor Nicos frowned and said, "I must agree. I think this most unwise, Lord Yevon."

"We know nothing about them, except what happened all that time ago." Yevon said, forcefully. "How can you judge them, with so little knowledge?"

Benkat huffed. "That knowledge is enough for me. They are vicious murderers. That is all _I_ need to know!"

Yevon closed his eyes briefly. "I understand that you have fears..." he began.

"How _dare_ you!" snarled Benkat, amongst the outraged nods of the other councillors. "I am not afraid of that filth! I would _destroy_ them were they here!" he slapped his hands down on the long table.

Yevon stood. "You forget yourself, Benkat." he said, coolly.

Benkat's mouth worked soundlessly for a moment. "My apologies, Lord Yevon." he ground out. He pushed back in his chair, nostrils flaring.

Yevon looked down the long polished table to where Sambrian was seated as Councillor of the Summoners. Sambrian raised his eyebrows in a clear 'I told you so'.

He sighed to himself.

"My lord Councillors. This is not a request. As the appointed ruler of Zanarkand, I am telling you that Bevelle _will_ be approached by our diplomats. What happens then, is up to them."

He looked around the table and met each of their gazes, calmly. "I do not believe we should hold on to our fear. Or our anger. It is time for us to move forward, and heal. It is what the founders wanted for us all those years ago. Borrow their courage, and look to the future!"

At the very end of the table, the newest member of the council smiled at him, encouragingly. He nodded his acknowledgment, and went on with his impassioned speech.

Deena leaned back, charmed. She felt that Yevon was on the right track.

In order for a wound to heal, you must first deal with the source of the irritation. Every healer knew that. In her position as Councillor for the Citizenry, she didn't really have much of a function other than to try to keep the rest of them from forgetting about the common people. The ones who ran the clubs, and cleaned the floors, and removed the trash. Sometimes the ones who lived at the tops of the towers forgot about the rest of them.

When Yevon proposed the new position, shortly after his ascension, Deena jumped at the opportunity. Her co-workers laughed and said it was just a lot of extra work, with no benefits. Deena felt that she needed to be where the decisions were made. If she could see how the system worked, perhaps someday she could help steer it in the right direction. _Like_ _today_, she thought, smiling to herself.


	4. Chapter 4: Foundations

Deena thumbed open the entry lock of her apartment and tossed her coat on a chair, set nearby for just that purpose.

"Tika, I'm home!" she called out. She walked over to her 'screen and checked for messages. "The council meeting today was sooo exciting! Yevon's got a new proposal again." She paused to rummage through her cupboards for something to snack on. "He wants to start talks with _Bevelle_, now! Can you imagine?"

She turned at the sudden movement behind her and came face to face with Tika, who was busily washing her paws on the counter top. "Pretty girl!" Deena praised and picked the cat up. Green eyes met blue and Deena smiled. "Let's get you some dinner, hey?"

Later, suitably fortified with a sandwich and milk, Deena settled into a chair and began to catch up on some of the paperwork she'd brought home with her. The chirrup of her videoscreen brought her back to awareness some two hours later.

She palmed it on and checked the ID. _Work. Of course–can't have a full day off, now can we? _she thought to herself. She hit the 'accept' button and said, somewhat brusquely "Deena here."

The face that came into view was of an older man, whose thick eyebrows gave him a permanent scowl. He had heavy creases around his eyes and nose, and a stocky jaw. His hair seemed to be perpetually unkempt. "Deena. I need you to come in." he said, without preamble.

"Hello, Deena. How was the meeting?" Deena said frostily. "Why, great! Thanks for asking, Brevin." She waved a hand at his expression and scowled at herself. "Sorry–I just was looking forward to some time to myself." She looked longingly at her abandoned paperwork, and slumped in defeat. "When do you need me?"

"As soon as you can make it in. Tarvo had an emergency and can't come in." Brevin said, gruffly.

"Hmp. I'll just bet he did." Deena sighed. "Okay. I'll be there in just a bit."

"Thank you, Deena." Brevin paused. "And I'm glad the meeting went well."

Deena grinned. She'd teach him some social skills, yet.

* * *

It was raining out by the time Deena made it safely inside, and she was soaked. Mentally cursing the unfortunate Tarvo, she set her bag on the chair behind the desk. _Gah. Look at me! _Deena thought ruefully. Glancing up at the clock over the entrance she decided to risk a quick trip to the coat room to tidy up.

She peered into the small mirror and sighed. She couldn't do much of anything with her pale, bland looks on the best of days, but now her watery blonde hair hung limply around her ears, and the cold had blanched even more color out of her skin, making her look almost blue. She dug out a comb and tucked the errant strands back into her no-nonsense bun.

_Oh, well. It's not like anyone ever notices me anyway. I'm just the night attendant, _she thought, futilely tugging on the wrinkled fabric of her uniform.

Deena's job was to watch over the residents of Zanarkand's Children's Hall. It was established some years ago for children who, for whatever reason, had no one to care for them.

It was a rewarding job, most times, but third cycle watches were pretty mundane. The children were all asleep by that time, and unless someone woke up because of a nightmare, there wasn't much to do.

Brevin had been the one to suggest she apply for the position. He seemed to think she was good with children, even though she didn't have any of her own. He said he'd seen how she treated her cat, and that was good enough for him.

Deena thought privately that Brevin was flattering her because no one else would take the night hours. Deena didn't mind. She needed the money, and she _did_ like children.

Brevin was the director of Children's Hall. He'd been hired to the post when it had opened and showed a knack for it, though his people skills left something to be desired. He said he'd leave that to others. He and Deena seemed to get along though, probably because of _her_ people skills, Deena thought wryly.

She was one of the few that had kept the post for more than a few months, which was one of the reasons the children got along with her so well. She was a constant in their lives, unlike most everything else.

Most of the other attendants complained that the children were virtual terrors and impossible to control. Deena knew that the children just wanted to see how far you'd let them go, before putting your foot down. The various other 'short timers' never did learn to put their foot down. So the children began making bets as to how long the attendants would last. Deena tried to discourage it, but it was a losing battle.

Unfortunately, it looked like Tarvo was going to be a long timer. There was something Deena just didn't like about him. He liked to flirt with her and seemed amused when she got annoyed. And he always seemed to be 'unavailable' for the times when they needed someone for the weekends, or to cover for other workers who were sick. Deena shook her head.

"Deena, can I have some water?" a small voice from behind her asked, plaintively. Deena turned to see a tiny girl, rubbing the sleep from her eyes and blinking owlishly.

_Probably a bad dream_, Deena thought to herself. "Sure thing, sweets! Come here," she said, holding out a hand. Taking the tiny hand in her own, Deena walked the little girl into the kitchen for a drink.


	5. Chapter 5: Knowledge

Yevon stood on the deck of the ship and enjoyed the feel of the wind on his face. He was dressed, for once, in 'civilian' clothes. The kind of clothes he wore all the time when he was just one of the many citizens of Zanarkand.

His light tank top and loose shorts fit him like a second skin, and he wished he could get away with wearing them more often. His dark hair was beginning to get lighter streaks in it from all the excursions he'd been taking, getting to know the various governments of Spira, and he thought he might be getting a bit of a sunburn on his nose.

His aide would be horrified. Yevon grinned at the thought.

He leaned forward on the railing and enjoyed the smell of the salt air and the cries of the seabirds. The last two hours he'd been meeting with all of his various ministers and advisors. He had a stack of datapads in his suite with detailed reports on any and all diplomatic missions that had taken place in the past ten years, from the earliest to the most recent one on the Bikanel Islands.

He had advice and admonishments buzzing through his mind. And a headache. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, wearily. It had been agreed, after everyone had given up trying to dissuade him from this mission entirely, to dock the ship a few miles down the coast and walk the party the rest of the way to Bevelle.

It had also been agreed, despite his vehement protests, that he would _not_ be in the initial party. Legolas had volunteered to stand in his place to represent Zanarkand for the first contact, and once the situation was deemed stable, Yevon would make his appearance.

So, he'd spent the last three days confined to the ship preparing for the eventual meeting with the Bevelle government. He hoped it would be soon, lest he go mad before he had the chance to make a good first impression.

He turned at the quiet cough behind him to find a young guard waiting nervously for Yevon to notice his presence. Yevon smothered a smile at the young man's earnestness.

"My lord Yevon. The front guard reports the diplomatic party is returning, sir." The young guard paused, uncertain of Yevon's reception. "They report that Lord Legolas is alone, Lord." He snapped a smart salute and bowed. Yevon nodded solemnly. "Thank you."

Yevon thought Legolas looked very tired, more tired than he could remember seeing him before, as he boarded the ship.

"Lord Yevon," Legolas said, formally, "I bring news of Bevelle." He stood at attention and waited for Yevon to acknowledge him.

"Out with it, Legolas, and let us know what happened!" Yevon said, impatiently.

"The High Priest of Bevelle bids you well, and agrees to join us in Zanarkand to get reacquainted with our people." said Legolas, still looking just past Yevon's left shoulder.

Yevon frowned, wondering at his friend's formality. He gestured for Legolas to follow him into the meeting room.

"Legolas, drop the act. What happened?" Yevon said, once they were alone.

Legolas' lanky frame slumped and he rolled his eyes. "Oh, spare me from ever having to speak with those people again! It's 'the One' this, 'the One' that, every other word, it seems!" He stretched, wearily. "It started out a bit rough. Guards everywhere and threats of death...Although once we made it clear we weren't coming for some kind of retribution, they seemed eager enough to talk to us."

Yevon's eyebrows knitted together. "And they weren't insulted that I wasn't there in person?"

Legolas shrugged. "Nope, not a bit. Seemed reasonable to them, I guess." He smothered a grin at Yevon's slightly crestfallen expression.

"A government founded entirely on religion, hm?" Yevon mused. "Must be... interesting."

Legolas gave a convincing shudder. "Scary, if you ask me. People around there looked like they were afraid to say 'boo' without the High Priest's permission!"

He leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. "And it looks to me like they haven't made any significant changes to that fortress city of theirs since the last time our people spoke!" Legolas chuckled, dryly. "Boy, are they gonna be surprised when they get to Zanarkand!"

Yevon looked up. "And that will be...?" he prompted, eyebrow raised.

Yawning, Legolas replied, "Two weeks from tomorrow. The High Priest and his retinue will call on the Ruler of Zanarkand and you two will talk. About what, I'm not sure. That's up to you. _My_ job is done." He scrubbed at his face with his hands.

"Great Chief Advisor _you_ make, Legolas. " Yevon smiled.

"Gimme some time to unplug, will you? I'm burnt out from trying not to offend that guy. You have no idea how _formal_ their idea of 'formal' is!" Legolas sighed. "I'll give you a full report by the end of the week, okay?"

It took them the better part of three days to return to the welcoming shores of Zanarkand. The chaos of disembarking was nearly as bad coming back home as the preparations had been, leaving!

The palace staff swarmed over the ship unloading all the various odds and ends they'd brought with them and Yevon felt a bit superfluous, dodging out of the way of people hauling crates and carriers. Anyway, Mira was waiting for him, he was sure...

"Lord Yevon!" panted a young man in the palace uniform. He swallowed mightily, having run the whole way. "Lord Yevon, your wife..." he wheezed.

Yevon's heart seized in his chest and he grabbed the man by the shoulders. "What? Where is she? What _is_ it, man?" Yevon shouted, trying to shake the man into some semblance of coherance.

"A...girl, my lord..." he smiled up at his ruler.

Yevon's face went slack in surprise, then split into a huge grin. "A girl? A _girl_!" he swung the young man around. "Where is she?"

"In your rooms, lord." the messenger grinned. "She's a fine one, if I may say so, sir."

Yevon was already sprinting for their quarters, propriety be damned. He could see, out of the corner of his eye, guards frantically snapping to attention as he sped through the hallways.

He finally stumbled to a stop in front of the door leading to their private quarters. His heart was racing, and he swallowed nervously.

Yevon pushed open the door and went in, walking as though he might disturb the scene before him.

Mira was sitting cross-legged on the large four-poster bed in the middle of the room, curled around a small bundle in her arms. She looked up at the sound of the door, and he thought she'd never looked more beautiful than she did at that moment.

Her large chestnut eyes were radiant with emotion, and her smile trembled in her joy. "Yevon..." she breathed. He crossed the room in a rush and bent to see his wife's miracle.

The tiny face peering out from the snowy linen was contorted into a fierce frown. She had a dusting of silvery blonde hair atop her tiny head that fuzzed out like a halo.

"She's beautiful..." Yevon said reverently. He leaned over to Mira and kissed her. "What shall we call her, love?"

Mira leaned back and wrapped one hand around her husband's and smiled up at him. "We will call her Yunalesca."


	6. Chapter 6: Foresight

Yevon felt that his life was complete. All the plans he'd had for his reign were slowly but surely coming together, and now, he had a little girl to give the world to. He smiled, as he'd been doing almost constantly since her birth. Yunalesca. His daughter. He shook his head in wonder.

The staff were all amused to see the great Yevon brought low by an infant. He didn't mind. He would raise her to see the world as he did, as a majestic tribute to life. _All_ life, not just lives found in this city or that. It was his fervent wish to see _all_ the cities of Spira working together, before his death.

The regal ship bearing the leader of Bevelle had been spotted earlier that morning and was scheduled to arrive in just a short while. Yevon had ordered his staff to treat the visiting dignitaries with the utmost respect and honor. He didn't want anything to spoil this momentous occasion.

After reading Legolas' report, he could only hope. It seemed that the Bevellians were deeply superstitious and took great stock in omens and portends. He sighed. All he needed was for talks to collapse because they served the wrong food or something.

Mira kept telling him to not worry, that something must have rung true with the people of Bevelle, for them to have come all this way to meet with him. He fervently hoped so, for all their sakes. There were days when he didn't know what he'd do without his wife's calming presence at his side.

Legolas had spent the last couple of weeks instructing all the councillors in the various beliefs and customs of Bevelle. He had done his best to impress upon them the importance of presenting a united front, lest the Bevellians think that they were weak, and therefore unworthy of respect. Needless to say, Benkat had been outraged at the idea that _anyone_ would think them weak, much less Bevelle!

Benkat had arranged to have the mage's and warrior's guilds make their presence known in the city, to discourage such foolish ideas. Yevon had made it clear that any violence would be considered treason against Zanarkand, to discourage any foolish ideas _Benkat_ might have.

Dukot, the leader of the Al Bhed, had decided to help out his 'old friend' and sent a group of his finest warriors and teachers to show his idea of a 'united front'. Yevon was touched by the thought, and accepted his gesture, although he planned to keep the contact between the two groups limited to the grand fete planned for tomorrow.

The fete had been his wife's idea, naturally. She felt that it was easier for people to get to know one another in a more _relaxed_ atmosphere. Yevon agreed, but decided to eliminate any alcoholic beverages, to limit the chances for overly 'relaxed' people to start a war.

He could feel another headache coming on.

* * *

Yevon paced the audience chamber impatiently, his fine silken robes swirling around his ankles. Mira sat on the dais and watched him pace. "You'll wear yourself out, Yevon." she said with a patient sigh.

"That's the idea." he said curtly.

Mira rolled her eyes. Yevon had always been this way before any situation he felt was important. He'd work himself into a froth and then find it was never as bad as he'd thought. She loved his passion, but she worried it'd be the death of him.

She smoothed the skirts of her formal dress, and wondered how much longer it would be. Her nerves took her in other directions. When she was nervous, she tended to chew on her nails. Not the most becoming habit, and certainly not a proper occupation for the wife of the ruler of Zanarkand. And, for all she knew, it might be a mortal insult to the High Priest. She sighed and balled her hands to control her impulses.

"All right, you're wearing _me_ out!" she said, impatiently. "Come here and sit down, Yevon! They'll be here any minute, anyway, and you don't want them to see you racing around the room like a motorized toy, do you?"

Yevon's lips twitched and he went over to where his wife was seated. "This 'mothering' thing has gone to your head, woman."

Mira laughed and swatted at him. "One more crack like that and I'll send you to your room!" she said, with an impish grin.

The wide carved doors opened at the other end of the room, and a young page entered. "The High Priest of Bevelle, Lord Denno!" he announced, loudly. He stepped aside with a flourish.

Yevon and Mira sprang apart and quickly settled into more formal postures.

The man who entered cautiously was slightly shorter than Yevon, but carried himself with supreme dignity.

He was swathed in pure white robes, unadorned with any embroidery or patterns. Upon his head was a large headdress that brought his perceived height to a few inches above Yevon. He strode calmly into the room and said tranquilly "Greetings, Lord Yevon. May The One bless you and your household."

Yevon stood and said "And yours as well, Lord Denno." He met the priest halfway across the tiled floor and bowed. Lord Denno smiled slightly, and returned the bow. "May I introduce my aide, Lisette?" he said with a slight gesture towards the still open door, where a small woman stood, waiting.

The delicate woman, unnoticed beside Lord Denno's stateliness, peered out from under her cowl. Mira smiled warmly and gestured her into the room. "All are welcome here, dear lady!" she said.

"I hope her presence does not interfere," Lord Denno said smoothly. "I find she sometimes sees different facets of situations that I had not considered." Lisette moved carefully to his side and stood with her eyes cast down.

Mira glanced quickly at her husband, and shared a moment of perfect unspoken agreement with him. They wanted to know more about this timid woman.

"Shall we proceed to the conference room?" Yevon said. "There are refreshments, and I'm sure we'll all be more comfortable there!"

Denno nodded, once and followed Yevon. Mira noticed Lisette looking around with great curiosity, before following Lord Denno.

"I realize you've never seen our city before, Lisette. Would you like a tour of some of the highlights of the palace, later?" Mira asked, falling into step with her.

Lisette seemed startled, and turned to her. "I...would like that, Lady Mira. If it's no trouble, of course!" Her voice was gentle and hesitant.

Mira smiled. "Not at all! Gives me a chance to use my historian's skills!"

Lisette blinked. "You're a historian, too?" she said, finally.

Mira nodded. "Oh, yes. I'm a member of the Scholar's Guild. I still like to keep tabs, even now, with Yevon having become High Summoner."

Lisette digested that bit of information. "I...see. Thank you, Lady."


	7. Chapter 7: Visions

Mira was bored. Desperately, unabashedly bored.

Yevon and Lord Denno had been making polite conversation for near on two hours, now. At the moment, they were discussing various import and export goods. Mira could feel her eyes glazing over.

At a pause in their discussion on the relative merits of importing Tura berries, Mira said quickly, "Forgive me, my lords, but I promised the Lady Lisette a tour of the palace, earlier. Would you excuse us?"

She knew the request was phrased a bit bluntly, but she was about to humiliate herself by falling asleep, right there.

Yevon's mouth twitched in understanding. "If Lord Denno has no objection," he said. Denno looked piercingly at Lisette and nodded. "Return to our quarters, when you are finished, Lisette." he said dismissively.

The two women walked quietly out of the room. Mira turned to Lisette and grinned. "I hope I didn't tear you away from that _riveting_ conversation!"

Lisette put a hand to her mouth in amusement. "Not at all. I know nothing of Tura berries, other than that they are good on my breakfast porridge."

"Well, good, then. What would you like to see, Lisette?" Mira said. She swept her arm in front of her. "I am at your service, Lady!" she smiled.

Lisette looked shocked. "Oh, no, my lady! You are the leader of your people, and I... merely an aide! I..I would never choose to impose..." she stuttered.

Mira shook her head. "No, no! I was _teasing_ you! It's a bad habit I have. Please forgive me!"

She took a deep breath in consternation. "Would you like to see the public gallery? I'm told it's quite nice." She smiled, again. "I doubt I could tell you much about the artwork, other than the name of the artist, however."

Lisette nodded, wordlessly.

Mira hoped she hadn't damaged what little rapport she'd gained with this shy young lady. She wondered what kind of life she lead in the confines of Bevelle, that she would be so disturbed by gentle teasing.

As they made their way to the palace gallery, Lisette watched curiously as Mira repeatedly acknowledged the staff's obeisance.

"May I ask a question, Lady Mira?" she said softly.

Mira looked over her shoulder. "Of course...and please, call me Mira."

Lisette blinked. "As you wish, my lady. I wondered if it was customary, here in Zanarkand, to treat servants as equals."

Mira smiled gently. "Well, some do, and some don't, I suppose. Yevon and I believe, however, that we are all capable of great things. As some are talented at making great works of art, some are good at politics, and yet others at running a fine household."

She shook her head. "Everyone contributes to the whole, Lisette. And the fact that I am considered 'above' these people, because of my station, is denying their worth. I won't do that."

Lisette smiled, almost to herself. "You...surprise me, Lady Mira. You are not what I was expecting."

Mira returned the smile.

"I've always enjoyed coming to this gallery, even when I was young. I loved seeing how other people saw the world around us. Each painting seemed to be a glimpse into someone else's mind." Mira said, some time later.

The long chamber was lined with large paintings on either wall, depicting various scenes of life in Spira. Though the paintings were the only decoration other than the strategic seating, the chamber seemed muffled and private. Lisette was walking slowly through the room, enraptured by the scenes captured on canvas.

"I don't think I've ever seen anything so...free," she said reverently. Mira tilted her head in confusion.

"It's... well...In Bevelle, art must be approved by the ministry." Lisette went on to explain. "Most artwork is portraiture of the High Priests, or renditions of the works of the temple."

She smiled, softly. "I wanted to be a painter, when I was young. Things...didn't work out that way."

Mira began to see the pattern that had troubled her subconsciously. "Lisette, what is it that you do, for Lord Denno? If I may ask, of course."

Lisette turned towards her, and lowered her heavy cowl.

Mira stifled a gasp.

The irises of Lisette's eyes were white, and rimmed 'round with a dark grey. Her gaze seemed to pierce Mira's soul.

Lisette lowered her eyes and smiled gently in acknowledgment. "I am the Seeress for the High Priest of Bevelle, Lady Mira."

Mira looked at her in confusion and tried to hide her disconcertion. "Forgive me, but the only place I've heard of such a gift was in children's tales."

Lisette nodded. "It is extremely rare. When it was discovered that I possessed the gift, I was given into Lord Denno's service. It was an honor, really."

Mira winced inwardly at the possible connotations of Lisette's 'service' to Lord Denno. "So...you can see the future?" she said, awkwardly.

Lisette smiled, serenely. "It's not as easy as it sounds, Mira." She looked around the room as she searched for the right words.

"Most people see only the here-and-now," she said, finally. "Those of us with the sight have access to more. But it's not like peering through a window." She frowned, obviously unused to thinking about something so instinctive to her.

Lisette took Mira by the arm and moved her in front of a painting of a knight standing next to an armored chocobo. "What do you see?" she demanded.

Mira frowned. " A painting of a man." She looked at Lisette.

"Exactly. You see what _is_, and that's all." Lisette said.

Mira raised her eyebrows, not understanding.

"Think of this painting as a vision." Lisette demanded, gesturing at the painting for emphasis. She moved Mira closer to the painting, until Mira's nose was nearly touching it. "_Now_ what do you see?" she said, suddenly.

Laughing, Mira leaned back and tried to uncross her eyes. "A blur of color, mostly..."

Lisette looked at her, piercingly.

"Well, okay...um...his leg, and a little bit of grass, I guess." Mira said, frowning in concentration.

Lisette nodded. "And that is how I see the future. With focus, I see parts of the whole. There is no context, usually. My visions are abstract smears of color, that I weave into an image." She smiled. "It takes years of discipline to learn such focus."

Mira stepped back and stared at Lisette in open admiration. "I'm humbled, Lady Lisette."

Lisette shook her head, denying the compliment. "Not everyone understands when I try to explain it."

She smiled wryly. "Lord Denno seems to think I 'create' a future. As if it's carved into the very stones. When I 'see' the future, I cannot see _every_ future." She sighed in frustration. "The future is a tangled web of 'might haves' and 'could bes'. What I _see_ is the future as it stands in the very seconds that I view it. With each word or action, we might change it, and what I see may not be what will happen." Lisette said, waving a slender hand in emphasis.

Mira thought she sounded bitter. She could imagine that she'd be bitter, too, if someone treated her skills like a clock one consults for the proper time...

The two groups met up in the main hall a short while later. Lisette had replaced her cowl, and schooled her face into impassiveness. Mira thought it might be a defense mechanism inspired by Lord Denno's fierce countenance.

Yevon was obviously relieved to see them. "There you are! Lord Denno was just about to retire for the evening, and was concerned about Lady Lisette's whereabouts."

Behind Denno's back, Yevon widened his eyes at his wife in silent communication.

"Never fear, Lord Denno, here she is, safe and sound." Mira smiled brightly. "We toured the gallery, and spoke of the distinctions between our two cities artists."

She bowed her head in apology. "I am afraid I tend to ramble, as my lord Yevon can attest."

Lord Denno looked less than impressed. Lisette curtsied deeply. "Forgive me, Lord Denno. I did not realize how late the hour had become."

Mira frowned. "Oh, dear. It is late, isn't it! Yunalesca must be starving!"

As if summoned by her words, a servant hurried to them, carrying the wailing infant. She stopped a few feet away, uncertain of the proper protocol.

Lady Mira gestured to the servant. Smiling, she took her young daughter into her arms, and crooned wordlessly to her. As the baby quieted, Mira turned back to the priest and his seeress."This is our daughter, Yunalesca."

Yunalesca grunted, and turned her head towards her mother's voice. Mira's mouth twitched. "She's a little hungry."

Lisette smiled warmly and stepped closer for a better view of the tiny girl. Mira smiled, sharing a purely feminine sense of pride in her child. "She takes after her father, I think."

Suddenly Lisette swayed and stumbled. Lord Denno stepped forward abruptly and took her arm. "What is it, Lisette?" he demanded.

She looked up at him, dazed. "The girl..." she whispered.

Mira gathered Yunalesca to her chest, protectively. "What about her, Lisette?" she said, frightened in spite of herself.

"She...I see her, many years in the future," Lisette put a hand to her forehead and looked at Mira. "She will never be forgotten by the peoples of Spira. She will be remembered long past her death."

Relaxing, Mira looked at Yevon, warmly. "She'll be famous, like her father..."


	8. Chapter 8: Reflections

Legolas thought the party was a smashing success. Yevon and Mira were at one of the seating areas, holding informal court and apparently having a lively discussion with Lord Denno. His aide had plead illness and had stayed behind in their rooms. The other dignitaries from Bevelle, however, were scattered around the great hall talking to various personages from Zanarkand. All in all, it looked like the ice had been well and thoroughly broken.

He scanned the room for any signs of trouble and nodded his head in satisfaction. All clear. Looked like Yevon had been right, again. He shook his head and smiled to himself.

Legolas had spent the majority of the evening circulating through the throng, introducing people, fielding questions, and in general fulfilling his duties as a diplomat.

It had made him very thirsty, however, and he found himself winding around to the refreshment area. He chose a glass of some type of juice and leaned against the wall, the better to keep an eye on things.

"Having fun?" came a voice next to him.

Startled, he nearly spilled his juice down his formal robes of state. Next to him was the lovliest woman he'd ever laid eyes on. She was dressed in an unadorned black velvet dress that covered most of her slim form, and yet revealed it in the most tantalizing way. Her moonlight colored hair was piled on top of her head in some complex style, held in place with only two small jeweled sticks.

"I'm so sorry," she said, steadying him with one hand on his arm. "I didn't mean to startle you!"

Legolas knew he was staring like a hormonal teenager, but he couldn't look away from her vivid green eyes. He cleared his suddenly thick throat, and tried on a smile for effect. The young woman dropped her eyes and tried to hide her grin.

"Allow me to introduce myself," she said holding out her hand. "My name is Tisha, primary assistant to Lord Benkat, Council of Mages."

Legolas blinked and recovered his wits. "Forgive me, lady." He shook his head ruefully. "I was stunned by your beauty." he bowed gallantly over the proffered hand, inspiring a giggle.

"My name is Legolas, Chief Advisor to Lord Yevon."

"Oh, my. You outrank me, sir!" she teased.

"Never fear, I shall not hold it against you, Lady Tisha." he smiled. "How is it working for the infamous Lord Benkat?"

She chuckled, a warm throaty sound that sang in his blood. "It's not as bad as all _that_, Legolas. We mages are a passionate lot, and are quite used to emotional outbursts among our numbers."

Tisha swirled the ice around in her drink. "And, after all, it's not like we control opposing elements; now that _would_ be bad."

Legolas' forehead wrinkled in confusion. "I'm sorry, I don't understand..."

"Oh, forgive me! I forget not everyone understands the elements like we do." she blushed, faintly. "Lord Benkat has mastered the element of fire, and I am mastering the element of lightning. Those two elements can work together without causing any loss of power or any friction." She smiled at him, and continued. "Now, if I was learning to cast _ice_ spells, that would be in direct opposition with Benkat's fire. It would cause friction, and we would fight each other for dominance, unconsciously. Not a good atmosphere for a functional working relationship."

"Hm. I didn't realize that you all specialized in just the one element. I guess I thought that a mage controlled them all..." Legolas said, thoughtfully.

Tisha laughed in genuine amusement. "Oh, my! That _would_ be impressive, wouldn't it? I can't imagine a situation so dire that we'd ever need to consider mastering all the abilities a mage can learn! No, what we lose in flexibility, we more than make up for in finesse."

She held up one delicate hand that was suddenly wreathed in blue-white lightning. "Now, say for instance, that you suddenly collapsed from a heart seizure. With my abilities, I can apply a small jolt to your hear to restore it's natural beat. Or, conversely, I could stop a healthy heart with a thought."

She raised an eyebrow in emphasis, and closed her hand, returning the tiny lightning bolts to wherever she'd called them from.

She seemed to notice the stunned look on his face and said abruptly, "Forgive me, Legolas! I'm lecturing again! I've been asked so many questions about my abilities this night, I feel like I'm back in the lecture hall at the Mage's guild."

Legolas chuckled. "I, too. I think the Bevellians are making up for lost time. They haven't met people like us in a very long while, and they seem to be indulging their curiosity as much as they can while they're here!"

Tisha chuckled and put her hand on Legolas' arm. "One poor man was very interested in the general range of a black mage. I do believe he was afraid that we could attack their city from the comfort of our homes!" She laughed. "I had to assure him that mages have to be able to see their target, if they hope to hit it. Otherwise, we'd be casting blindly! What do they think we _are_, anyway?"

Legolas said wryly, "I think we've been their bogeyman for two hundred years." he shook his head ruefully. "What a waste..."

He suddenly realized that they were having to shout to be heard over the general hubbub. "Lady Tisha, would you like to go somewhere else and continue our talk?"

She looked up at him and smiled. "I would like that very much, Legolas. As long as you think it's safe wandering the streets this late..."she said, fluttering her lashes.

"Ah, it'll be okay, " Legolas said, blandly. "I have you to protect me, after all.."

Tisha laughed.

* * *

On their way out, Legolas stepped into one of the staff entrances into the main hall and handed one of the staff his formal robes with instructions to return them to his quarters. He wanted this to be less an official exchange of information than an enjoyable interlude with a lovely intelligent woman. He peered in one of the mirrors lining the hall, and ran his fingers through his unruly russet curls, but gave it up as an impossible task.

His rich brown vest was loosely belted and reached just past his hips. The light linen shirt underneath was slightly rumpled from being under his robes, but still looked fairly fresh. At least his slacks and knee high boots looked sharp. He sighed. He hadn't planned on going anywhere except to bed after this bash. Next time he'd remember to plan for anything!

Reunited with Tisha a short while later, Legolas led the way out of the palace grounds and onto the main thoroughfare leading to the primary entertainment sector of Zanarkand.

"Well, my lady, where shall we go?" He said, gesturing grandly before them.

Tisha looked around in delight. "I don't really care, to be truthful. It's such a lovely night, I wouldn't mind just walking."

Legolas nodded. "Your wish is my command." He steered them off the main streets and headed towards the private sectors. "I always find a good walk invigorating."

Tisha looked at him from under her lashes. "You know, turnabout is fair play..."

Legolas raised an eyebrow, warily. "Oh?"

She grinned. "Oh, yes. What_ is_ the infamous Lord Yevon really like? The tales people tell...If even _half_ of them were actually true..." she trailed off.

Legolas laughed. "I suppose he does inspire stories. He always has. We've known each other for a long time," he said, musing. "He's just a man, really. I think the council just isn't used to such a young ruler."

Tisha nodded. "True. Usually our rulers have spent most of their lives training and studying to hone their skills as a Summoner, before issuing a challenge."

She looked at Legolas out of the corner of her eye. "Everyone wonders how he managed it, with just minimal skills."

Legolas tilted his head back and sighed. "Probably with brute strength, if I know him." He stopped at the low wall separating them from the rocky shores of the sea. "Yevon has always been destined for greatness, I guess. Most Summoners don't discover they've the talent until puberty. Yevon was discovered at the age of five."

Tisha's eyes widened in shock. "_Five_?"She shook her head. "How is that possible? What did he _do_?"

Legolas laughed dryly. He turned his eyes out to the sea, pounding the rocks below them. "Okay, let me lay the groundwork. You know that Summoners only send those who die unexpectedly, right? And that they don't have to Send wildlife and the like?"

She nodded. "Because animals follow their instincts, and find the farplane without our interference."

"Exactly. Otherwise, Summoners would never have a free moment, trying to keep up with the sudden deaths that are part of nature." Legolas said, approvingly. "Well, Yevon had a dog when he was five, and he loved that dog like nothing else. When it died suddenly, he was heartbroken. Until he realized that he could keep his dog's soul with him."

Tisha gasped. "Keep it with him? Like an unsent? I didn't know that was possible!"

Legolas looked at her pointedly. "It's not. No one's been able to do that as long as we've had a recorded history."

He rolled his shoulders, suddenly uncomfortable. "Even the great Masters of Summoning, with all their years of training and focus..." He shrugged one shoulder.

"Anyway, they brought him into the guild and began his training, not just for his sake, but to teach him that such actions are abhorrent to nature's plan. Yevon took to the lessons like a fish to the sea and refined his innate talents. By the time he was ten, he was able to Send souls without any help."

Legolas smiled at Tisha's stunned look. "Yeah. The problem was, it was all power and no focus. It wasn't so much a gentle guiding hand as an athlete hitting one out of the spherepool for the fans."

Tisha hopped up on the wall next to him and rested her hands on her knees. "That's amazing..."

Legolas shifted a bit and smiled. "He drove poor Sambrian nearly insane. Yevon couldn't understand the reasoning behind learning to focus and control his power. With all of his raw strength, why did he need to learn the same disciplines that allow the rest of us tap the energies that bolster the gift that allows us to Send the dead? Sambrian told Yevon that he wouldn't let Yevon test to be formally recognized as a Summoner until he learned to control himself. They argued nearly all the time. I'm amazed Sambrian didn't just give up."

"I met him shortly after I turned fourteen. I had just discovered that I had an affinity with the dead. My parents sent me to the guild, and that's where we met. Sambrian decided to make Yevon my mentor, figuring that Yevon would have to be able to perform the techniques in order to teach them. He was right. Yevon hates to look like he doesn't know what he's doing. We became friends, and we've been together ever since."

Legolas grinned. "Although it's a bit like being friends with a hurricane, sometimes."

Tisha laughed.

"He's calmed down a lot since he met Mira. She wasn't impressed by his reputation in the guild. She can split his ego into tiny pieces if he gets too puffed up." Legolas levered himself back up from the wall. "And has, on many occasions." he chuckled.

"We were both charmed by her when he discovered her tucked away in the archives at the Scholar's guildhall. Yevon was researching some paper or other, and she happened to be the only one there who could help him out. He fell head over heels almost immediately. Hell, I think _I_ had a crush on her for a few months after he met her. She loves him, though. It was obvious from the start, and I respect that." He shrugged.

He stopped, suddenly aware that he was rambling about his love life, or lack thereof, to a woman that he'd _really_ like to get to know better.

Tisha put her hand over his, smiling gently. The heat startled him out of his reverie and he looked down at her luminous face.

"I'd like a chance to help you over your crush, Legolas."she said, softly.

He swallowed. She moistened her lips and he was lost. He held out a hand to her and they headed back to the palace.


	9. Chapter 9: Destiny

The fete in the Grand Hall was still in full swing late into the night. Lord Denno and his men had opted to stay for the duration in order to observe the entire spectacle.

Lord Denno was particularly intrigued by the group that called themselves the 'Al Bhed'. They spoke some heathenish tongue, but seemed to have a grasp of this _technology_ that Zanarkand so depended on. He intended to get to know them better...

He'd been scouting the crowd for a suitable target, and he'd finally seen one young man, boy really, heading for the refreshment table unescorted by any others of his kind. As he circled the tables, examining the delicacies laid out for the taking, Lord Denno managed to crowd him enough that they ended up bumping elbows.

"_Cunno! E teth'd sayh du pisb oui!_" the boy said, quickly. He shook his head in irritation and continued with a wide smile, "I meant, forgive me, I meant no harm, sir."

"Oh, no, don't worry yourself! It was entirely my fault, " Denno said smoothly. Of course it _was_, but by taking responsibility for it, he put pressure on the boy to neutralize the perceived social debt.

"Allow me to introduce myself," Denno said. "I am Lord Denno, of Bevelle." He left off his title in the hopes that the boy would be less guarded around him. He wanted information, and didn't want to have 'diplomacy' interfere.

This whole trip had been intended to be a covert fact-finding mission, disguised as a 'diplomatic tour'. Unfortunately those from Zanarkand were cagier than he'd originally thought. He'd not been able to get as much information as he'd hoped. This technology, though...it was a weakness, he was _sure_ of it. He _must_ find out more, without drawing undue attention to himself.

When that boy, Legolas, had shown up at their gates with his 'diplomatic party', Bevelle had gone on high alert, and Denno knew his destiny had finally found him.

The tale of the Holy War of two hundred years ago, when his ancestor had finally banished the tainted ones from fair Bevelle, had been told to him by his father as it had been told to him by _his_ father, down through the generations. At the end of the inspiring epic, his father always spoke of the warning that came with it. "They shall return, to test the purity of Bevelle's heart. Be ever ready, lest they corrupt us, once again."

As a child, he imagined himself, sword in hand, defending his beloved city against the foul, insidious creatures of yore. He never once imagined they'd walk up to the gates and ask for a meeting with him! The only thing he'd known for sure, was that they could not be trusted. History had shown that fiends were masters at hiding their true nature.

When they'd been driven out, it had been hoped that they had perished in the wilderness surrounding Bevelle, but obviously they were even more insidious than they'd feared. According to their representative, they'd built an entire _city_ populated with their filth. Denno suppressed a shudder as he looked around.

And now, here he was, in the heart of their corrupt city, as an 'honored guest'. He chuckled to himself.

The boy in front of him gave him a puzzled look at his sudden mirth. "Don't mind me, young man. I am easily amused." He put an avuncular arm around the boy's shoulders and steered him to an alcove just outside the hall.

"I wondered if you could answer my question. Your people, even your warriors, seem to be unarmed. Are you 'mages', as well?" He smiled thinly.

"Oh, no, sir. Our people are not so gifted. We use _machina _to defend ourselves against wild animals and fiends." the boy said guilelessly.

Denno wrinkled his forehead in puzzlement while his heart sang in his chest. "I do not know that word, young man."

The boy laughed. "I am not good with all your words, yet." He thought for a moment, tongue peeping out from between his white teeth. "Ah. _Machines_! We use 'machines'." He looked at Denno, proudly.

"These...'machina'...they are proof against fiend's magic?" Denno said, with bated breath. _This would be a gift from the One!_

"Well...no, they don't protect from it, but you can take out fiends from a distance, before they can see you and attack. Much more efficient than trying to bring them down with swords and staves, while they set you on fire or something!" the boy said, grinning.

"My people have always had problems with...fiends. Do you think _we_ could use these weapons? Would your people be willing to trade with us for them?" Denno was suddenly certain that _this_ was why the One had brought him here.

The boy blinked and then smiled. "We trade for many things, sir. Perhaps you could talk with Tokka. He does the trading on this venture."

Denno smiled in genuine pleasure.

* * *

The following week, Lord Denno, High Priest of Bevelle, stood on the primary deck of the cruiser that carried he and his men homeward.

The venture with Tokka had been a ringing success, and stashed carefully in the hold of the ship were two crates of the 'machina' weapons. Denno intended to turn them over to his researchers to discover their secret. He intended to make many more of them. Enough to arm all of his people, if necessary.

The clouds that had clogged the sky suddenly parted, revealing the translucent incandescence of the sea. The beams seemed to split the dark clouds and Denno saw it as a sign from the One.

He could feel the light of the One surrounding him and his eyes glowed with his passion. It was all coming together as foretold. The tainted ones had returned, and Denno would stand firm and restore the One's order to Spira. His hands tightened on the polished rail in front of him.

He would not rush into it, though. He began to pace, imagining his plan unfolding in front of him. He must be ready. His people must be ready. His breath came quickly and his heart raced.

They would purge Spira of darkness, and bring the light to all her peoples. And Lord Denno would guide them all.

It was his destiny.


	10. Chapter 10: Questions

Twelve years later

Yunalesca threw herself down on her neatly made bed with an aggrieved sigh. There was _nothing_ to do. She'd long since finished the exercises her tutor had set for her, and there were no other children her age living in the palace complex to play with.

She had her dolls, but no matter how she tried, she couldn't get them to dance the way Aunt Tisha could.

Dolls were stupid, anyway. She wanted to go down to the beach and look for crustaceans, but Mother said they didn't have time to organize an outing.

Yuna snagged her blitzball from it's nook and began tossing it rhythmically up and down. She didn't want to go on an_ outing_, she wanted to play at the beach! Mother would insist on guards and chaperones, and probably a tutor to make it _educational_. She blew her bangs away from her eyes with an irritated snort.

It's not like she didn't know the way to the beach or something.

She caught the blitzball and held it as the thought struck her.

It was true. She _did_ know the way to the beach, all by herself. She worried her lower lip as she mulled it over in her head. If she wore her old worn out play clothes, she wouldn't have to worry about someone seeing unusual stains or rips, and no one outside the palace would recognize her. And she had some Gil stashed in her room from other outings that she could use to buy a sandwich from a stand, which would be fun.

She smiled and lifted her chin up. She'd show them she was old enough to do things on her own!

Two hours later found her on the gravel path leading to the small stretch of beach that she'd been to with Uncle Legolas a few months ago. She found herself grinning at the idea that she'd managed to get to the beach without all of the fuss that generally preceded such a venture. Here she was, just wandering all by herself, barefoot and free at the waters edge.

She scrambled over some lichen-covered rocks and grabbed a slime coated stick that she used to drag a line in the damp sand. She hummed to herself as she walked along, enjoying the sun and the sounds of the gulls.

Behind her, the cliffs rose up into the sky, and beyond that, the towering buildings that marked the beginning of Zanarkand's business district. If she leaned all the way back, and shielded her eyes, she could just make out the tops of the towers, hazy and indistinct.

She kept walking, deciding to explore a bit. Maybe she could make it down to the docks, where all the ships came in, bringing back goods from all over Spira.

She'd heard Uncle Legolas say that trade had never been better, with all the goodwill her father had been spreading.

It made her proud, thinking that it was_ her_ father that was helping Zanarkand be the best city in all of Spira. When she grew up, she wanted to do what _he_ did, and help people work together and do their best.

She could hear the warning buoys in the distance, and she knew she couldn't be far. She climbed up a small pile of stones that had crumbled off the rock face and squinted into the distance. She could see the docks from here, and a few ships slowly making their way into the north harbor. She clambered back down and kept working her way down to the docks. The cliff face nearly joined up with the sea, here, and she had to hop from rock to rock in a couple of spots to make it through the otherwise waist-deep water.

Finally she was close enough to hear the dock workers shouting back and forth in various languages and accents. She found a comfortable spot on one of the huge rocks and settled in to watch the chaos of the docks.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could make out a knot of sailors disembarking from one of the fishing trawlers, shouting loudly to others on the dock. They seemed to be carrying something heavy, from what she could make out. They laid it down, and to her horror, she realized it was a body! She leaned forward, intent on seeing what happened.

The sailors jabbered to each other and gestured to the row of buildings on the dock. Finally a cluster of them entered the building closest to them.

Presently, a regal man in formal robes emerged from the dock offices, followed by the sailors that had called for him. Slowly, he made his way to where the fallen man lay. She put her hand to her mouth. _A Summoner_! The man was _dead_! She'd never seen anyone dead, before, and it gave her a queer feeling in her stomach.

The Summoner spoke to the dead man's comrades briefly before making his way to the body. He seemed to study it for a moment, before he raised his ornate staff in front of him and began an intricate dance around the man. Yunalesca was fascinated. Her father was a Summoner, but she'd never been allowed to see him Send anyone. Mother said she was too young.

Yunalesca thought privately that Mother worried too much. She was almost _thirteen_, for goodness' sake!

Suddenly a burst of brightly colored lights swirled around the Summoner and the dead man. It was like the lights danced with the Summoner, Yunalesca thought, dreamily. It was very pretty...

Gravel crunching behind her snapped her back to the here and now, and Yunalesca nearly fell off her rocky perch trying to turn around.

"Your mother is going to ground you for the rest of your life if she finds out about this, young lady." said Legolas, putting out a hand to steady her.

She gaped at him. "How'd you find out?" she demanded.

Legolas grinned. "I watched you from the upper observation deck. You're not very subtle."

He shook his head in amazement. "You just marched out of there as if no one would see you!" He raised an eyebrow. "You're lucky I was watching. The guards wanted to send out an entire squad after you. I told them I'd handle it."

She frowned, embarrassed. "I don't need to be watched all the time, you know."

He laughed. "Apparently you _do_! Otherwise no one would know where you were!" He settled down on the rock next to her, hair rippling in the salty breeze.

"That's what Daddy does, isn't it?" she said, gesturing to the Summoner, who was slowly completing the Sending.

Legolas slanted a glance at her. "Yes. Just not as much as the other Summoners. He rules Zanarkand. And as the High Summoner, he protects Zanarkand from her enemies." He looked pensive.

"Why?" she said. "I mean, why doesn't he Send as much as the others? He's the High Summoner...wouldn't that mean he Sends _more_ than the others?"

Legolas was silent for a moment. "He spends most of his time trying to keep the city running. He doesn't always have time to Send the unfortunate people who need it. That's why we have lots of Summoners."

She knitted her brow. "And, Daddy's not a mage...how does he 'protect' Zanarkand?" She turned to him, waiting for the answer.

A strange look flitted over Legolas' face briefly, and was gone. He shrugged. "I guess it's tradition, Moog." he said, using his pet name for her.

"Come on. We need to get back before the tide comes in." He smiled and stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jacket, chilled in the cool air.

Yuna looked out to sea, horrified. She'd forgotten all about the tide! Now she could see that the water had risen in the short time they'd been there. If Uncle Legolas hadn't come, she'd have been stranded there, and maybe drowned!

She hurried to catch up to him, and took his hand. "I'm sorry, Uncle Legolas. I didn't mean to cause trouble." She hung her head.

He reached out and ruffled her hair. "Don't worry about it, Moog. Just, next time you feel the urge to explore, ask _me_, will you? I don't need any more grey hairs, just yet!"


	11. Chapter 11: Considerations

Yunalesca sat at her window, looking over the night view of Zanarkand. It was her favorite view, of all she had seen.

The glossy towers all lit up in multicolored hues, the ships in the harbor with their running lights on, the faint glow of the construction lights at the new blitzball stadium construction site...

She'd been watching as it grew, there near the heart of the city. Everyone was so excited about it. The old one had been in one of the older sections of town, and had been in serious need of an upgrade.

She hadn't expected her father to take her seriously when she'd suggested it as he'd complained to her mother about the foolish councillors and their lack of foresight.

He'd just been so upset, she'd wanted to make it better, somehow. And the stadium seemed like a great idea–_everyone_ liked blitzball!

It had been under construction for almost a year, now, and was nearly finished. She couldn't wait to see what it looked like, in the end! There was going to be such a _grand_ party to honor it, and she was going to be allowed to attend!

Yunalesca's eyes glinted in excitement. This would be the first official function she'd been to as her father's daughter, instead of accompanied by a nanny and kept in the background. Now that she'd been announced as an apprentice summoner, she was considered old enough to be seen in public as more than a mere child.

And in her secret heart, she felt since she'd made the suggestion, the stadium was her doing, in a way. So... the accolades were partly hers by right.

She grinned, again. She couldn't wait to see all the applauding, happy people when they dedicated the stadium.

Yunalesca moved across the room to the wardrobe. She palmed open the door to look, once again, at the outfit she'd chosen to wear.

It was a gauzy confection of multi colored layers of tissue thin cloth that moved in the slightest breeze, shifting against her legs in the most interesting way. The midriff was left bare except for two gold hoops attaching the top part. The top part was also gauzy, but fastened rather more securely across her bosom. There were two small straps that supposedly held up the top, but they were supposed to slide artfully off her shoulders and look as if something might slip at any moment...

She couldn't wait to see everyone's faces when she was finally able to wear it.

Yunalesca was startled out of her reverie by the melodious chime of the desk pager. She blinked and touched it on.

"Yunalesca, could you meet me in my office?" Lord Yevon said, looking unusually solemn.

"Yes, Father. I'll be right there." she said, quickly.

Yunalesca strode regally through the corridors leading to the primary offices of her father and his councillors. She wished her legs were a bit longer, to give her a bit more grace.

_Perhaps Father has finally seen that I am old enough to help him with his duties as Ruler_, she mused.

She wanted to learn all she could, so that when the time came, she could follow in her father's footsteps as ruler of Zanarkand.

The decor of the Palace was subtly different, depending on which area one was in at the time. The public areas were very formal and impressive, with lots of swag and works of various artists. The personal quarters were less formal, although they were still quite impressive to the newcomer. Yevon had had their quarters redone in a more rustic tone, with wood and stone as the primary medium. The offices, on the other hand were quite modern, with all the latest equipment. The designers had done a brilliant job of incorporating the sleekness of the glass and metal of the wallscreens into the office spaces, while still keeping the overall 'tone' of the Palace in place.

The royal guardsmen announced her presence as she neared her father's offices.

She nodded an acknowledgment of their formal bows as she entered, as she'd seen her mother do.

Her father was seated behind his large glass topped desk, consulting with a young man who looked to be about twenty, or so. Yevon looked up as she entered, and waved her over.

She dropped a graceful curtsey and walked to his desk. "You asked for me, Father?" she said.

Yevon steepled his fingers in front of him and smiled at her formality.

"Yes, Yunalesca. I want to introduce you to Lord Zaon." He gestured to the young man who had jumped to his feet at her entrance. "He is to be your personal guard, now that you will be attending social functions, in your own right. He has been recommended by Lord Benkat, himself, as a fully-trained Warrior Mage."

The young man bowed deeply to her, and said "Lady Yunalesca, I am honored to be chosen to guard you."

Yunalesca was horrified. A _guard_? She worked to maintain the serene look that she'd worked so hard to perfect. How could he _do_ this to her?

She smiled at them both and bowed her head. "Lord Zaon, I thank you for your gracious offer, but...surely, Father, I need no guard?"

Yevon narrowed his eyes in warning. "My dear, you are only thirteen and I can no longer leave your well-being in the hands of your nurse."

She blushed furiously. "I believe I have out grown my nurse, Father."

"Exactly my point. Yet you cannot expect me to leave you undefended against potential enemies, Yuna." he said calmly.

"My Lady, if I may be so bold, I am not to be your jailer," Lord Zaon interrupted, with a glance at Yevon.

"My function is merely to enforce your inviolable person." He smiled at her, gently, and Yunalesca was suddenly stricken with how blue his eyes were.

She blinked and moistened her lips in thought. "I...concede your point, Father." She took a deep breath and resettled herself.

A personal guard. It certainly would help people remember that she wasn't a little girl, anymore. Perhaps this wasn't entirely a disaster, after all.

"I am _so_ glad we agree, my dear," her father said, dryly.


	12. Chapter 12: Aspirations

Deena leaned against the rail on the concrete and steel walkway along Zanarkand's north district and watched the sun bleed away into the ocean.

_God, I'm morbid tonight_, she thought, pushing herself away from the rail.

She'd been reflecting on her life choices all evening and wondering how she'd ended up where she was. Not that she hated where she was, by any means. She loved working at the Children's Hall, it was a good job.

She just wondered if she made a difference to anyone.

The breeze picked up just then and blew wisps of her hair across her face. She blew them out of her way with an exasperated snort. She jammed her hands in her coat pockets and picked up her pace.

Normally she enjoyed the walk to work. The north walkway had the best view of the sunset, and she counted it as one of the good things in her life. Tonight, however, she couldn't get her mind off these unanswerable questions.

She'd thought, when she was younger, that she'd grow up, get a great job, find a fantastic man and have a few children to love. Well, and she thought she might save the world a couple of times, but then, she had been only ten.

_I've got the job, and technically, the kids.._

Deena sighed.

_Is it worth it?_

She felt guilty even thinking it. Of _course_ it was worth it.

And her work as the Councillor of Citizens had been going well. Yevon liked her idea for lowering property taxes for those who contributed labor towards the beautification and maintenance of their properties. The suggestion had resulted in small gardens and flower boxes springing up all over Zanarkand, even in the business and entertainment districts.

So why did she feel like she was missing something?

The walkway turned back inward toward the city then, and she was engulfed by the buildings. The neon lights and glowbars lit the streets into a rainbow of shades. Some of the night revelers wandered past her decked out in leather and silk. The man sported several braids in his thick black hair which shifted against his red silk shirt as he walked. His companion strutted along in a leather getup that started at her neck and wound its way down her body in a series of seemingly random knots that culminated in a fringe of soft leather that acted as a skirt, of sorts.

Deena tried to picture herself in a getup like that, and failed miserably. She had the body for it, but not the panache.

She was still thinking about it when she walked into the Children's Hall a short time later.

"Hey there, sex goddess!"

Deena closed her eyes and gritted her teeth. "Tarvo. I've told you before. That kind of language is inappropriate in this setting, and I personally don't care for it in _any_ setting. Don't force me to bring this to upper level's attention." She swung past him and hung her coat on the rack.

"Man, what crawled up your ass?" Tarvo said grinning insouciantly.

Deena ignored him. It was the only thing she could do, short of following through on her threat. And that might mean his dismissal. Which would mean they would be short-handed. Brevin couldn't afford to lose another attendant.

Tarvo finally relented and pushed the night's notes over to her with a muttered curse, and said "Enjoy." He shrugged on his jacket over his lean frame and left.

Deena sank into the chair and quickly skimmed his scrawled notes. One thing you could say for the man, he was detailed. And a damn fine healer, from what Brevin had told her. Too bad he had such a lecherous personality.

"Hello, Deena." Ky's voice echoed slightly in the still air.

Deena turned to see him, small frame nearly lost in the shadows. Ky was one of her favorite residents, but he had a tendency to startle her.

Ky had been a resident for nearly five years, now. He'd been a ward of the court since birth, but they'd tried to keep him in a traditional home setting. It never worked out. Ky's problems were too severe.

He'd been born with a rare disorder that made him painfully sensitive to light. Anything brighter than, say, twilight left him incapacitated with severe migraines and nausea.

His parents had given up custody shortly after his birth, unable to tolerate his unending screams. It had taken the careful observation of the healers to determine the exact nature of his illness.

Unfortunately, short of rewiring his entire nervous system, there was nothing they could do. So Ky walked alone through darkness.

Deena thought he must be the bravest little boy she'd ever met.

She reached over to the control panel and waved the lights down for him. Ky smiled and stepped out into the room. "Thank you, Deena." he said, solemnly.

She studied his face intently. "What's up, Ky?"

He blinked at her and shrugged a shoulder. "Nothing, really. Just a headache, I suppose."

Deena frowned to herself.

Ky had a propensity for keeping his feelings bottled up inside, which tended to aggravate his headaches.

She moved out from behind the desk and squatted in front of him. She brushed the hair from his eyes and examined them. "Do you need a potion?" She asked it as matter-of-factly as she could, knowing Ky hated people fussing over him.

"No, thank you, I'm okay." He slipped past her and back to his room.

Deena sighed as she looked after him. She guessed he was feeling left out from his social group, again.

The children his age thought he was 'weird' because of his illness. And most of the grown-ups couldn't relate to a seven year old child, no matter his intelligence. So, as a result, Ky didn't have much social interaction. Which ostracized him even more.

She was determined to bring him out of his shell. Somewhere in there, she knew, was a naughty, rambunctious boy who had hopes and dreams of his own. A little boy who needed to be just like everyone else.

The problem was, how to give him that?

Deena found the solution a few days later while walking home from work. She was nearly run over by a group of children laughing and chasing each other. They were throwing a blitzball back and forth in a complicated pattern, mimicking moves they had seen their favorite players do hundreds of times in the spherepool.

_Blitzball_. Children all over Spira couldn't stop chattering about the players' stats, moves, specialities, injuries, and all manner of blitzspeak. It was a national craze! Perhaps if Ky were interested, he'd have something in common with os many others, and he could relate to his peers more! Of course!

She hurried to the marketplace and started gathering up all the magazines and fanbooks she could find. Each one was plastered with images of healthy young men and women grinning rakishly into the sphere camera.

There were banners, and posters, and autographed blitzballs lining the walls. There was even a line of clothing that mimicked the player's uniforms!

Deena shook her head in wonder.

Making a decision, she grabbed a short, hooded top that had the Zanarkand Roundabout's logo on it, and added it to her purchases. It was better than the institutional shirt he wore nowadays, and besides, she liked purple.


	13. Chapter 13: Goals

Deena sat cross legged on her sofa pouring over the most recent census information gathered by the scholar's guild. Her living room was a disaster of papers and datapads, each holding a chunk of the information she was attempting to compare.

She supposed it would be easier if she made use of the secretaries provided to any of the councillors, but she never felt safe leaving her work in someone else's hands.

Most of her work was self-imposed anyway. Deena tried to keep a metaphorical ear open for complaints or obvious problems that weren't being dealt with.

Currently she was working on traffic patterns, looking for common areas of congestion, and what might be causing them. The most obvious offenders were the new blitzball stadium and the main governing centers.

Deena sighed deeply. This was going to take a while.

Tikka jumped up on her lap and rubbed against her arm. Deena chuckled and nuzzled her for a moment, then put her back on the floor. "Sorry, dear, I have to work on this while I can."

The chime of the videoscreen tightened her face in annoyance. "No. Not this time, I have work to do..." she muttered under her breath as she reached for it.

She slapped it on and was unsurprised to see Brevin's ruddy face.

"No. I don't care. Tarvo has to come in. This has to be the third time his grandmother has died this month! And I'm busy." she said, before he could even open his mouth.

"Hello, Brevin, how nice to hear from you. How are you?" Brevin said, eyebrow raised.

It surprised a laugh out of her. "Sorry, that was rude of me." She cleared off her lap and leaned forward. "I really can't come in, though."

"Ah, no. I wasn't calling about that. I, uh, just wanted to discuss something with you." Brevin said, reluctantly.

Deena blinked in surprise. "What's wrong?"

"Wrong? Oh, uh, nothing!" he stammered.

Deena put a hand to her forehead. "Then I'm confused." Tikka mewed from the floor, and she picked up the cat. "What do you need to discuss?"

Brevin was turning a curious shade of pink. "Really, it's nothing bad. We could, ah, discuss it over lunch if you wanted." He swallowed.

_Is he asking me out on a date?_ She thought, amused.

"Actually, that sounds great. Where do you want to meet?" Deena replied, stroking the cat, idly.

"There's a restaurant a few doors down from the Hall that has good sandwiches. It's called the Feathered Boar." he said, quickly.

Deena hid a grin. "I know the one. Sounds great. I'll be there in a little bit." she said, smiling.

A half hour later found her standing outside of a trendy business district restaurant. The gleaming windows reflected any ambient light, and made the whole building glow. Judging from the amount of people going in, it did a thriving business.

Brevin waved her over to the table as she entered. His face froze for a moment when he saw her, and she raised an eyebrow archly in response. "It _is_ my day off, you know."

She supposed poor Brevin had never seen her in anything other than her work clothes. Today found her wearing an over- large shirt over lightweight capris. Her hair, usually pinned tightly to her scalp was simply skinned back into a loose ponytail.

"Sorry..." he said, gruffly and gestured to the other seat. "You look nice."

Deena scooted the chair closer to the table and looked around. The decor was a bit upper class with lots of faux marble and glass, but the menu was a nice balance of dine-in and eat-out. She ordered the special which was a spicy noodle dish that she loved.

She looked up to see Brevin toying with the edge of his cloth napkin.

"I don't believe I've ever seen you so nervous, Brevin." she said quietly.

His head snapped up. "I'm not nervous!"

He paused, and then slumped. "Okay. So maybe I am. It's just.. I've seen how unhappy you've been lately. And, well, I don't want you to quit."

Deena's jaw dropped.

"I can't give you much of a raise, but if that's what it takes, well then..." Brevin rumbled.

Deena grabbed his arm to stop him. "Brevin." She chuckled, "Brevin, it's not _that_. Although I'll take the raise..."

She sipped her water to cover her embarrassment. "I've just been feeling..." she sighed. "Like I haven't accomplished much with my life."

Saying it like that, out in the open, made her blush. She waved a hand in frustration, trying to describe the feelings inside her. "I mean, I like my job, and I enjoy the work on the council... It's just..." she looked at him, to see if he understood.

Brevin seemed to be struggling with his reaction. He obviously hadn't been expecting her response and was trying to change gears on the fly.

"You've done great things, Deena," he said, finally. "Your work at the Hall has been exemplary, and you're the _first_ Councillor of Citizens. Isn't that _something_?" he asked, puzzled.

"Yes...but is it something that will last? Something that people will remember?" she smiled, softly. "I know it sounds egotistical, but I want to make a difference. I want to do things that people will remember me for. Not just soothe bad dreams, and sit in on council meetings..."

She looked at him intently. "Is that so wrong?"

Brevin's face softened in understanding and he looked younger, somehow. Deena remembered with a start that he wasn't that much older than she was.

"Of course not, Deena. It's an admirable goal. Hell, that's why I opened the Children's Hall in the beginning. I wanted something that would last. Something I could point to and say '_I_ did that.'" He smiled and touched her hand, tentatively. "It's why I hired you. I could see in your eyes that you felt that way, too."

Deena was at a loss for words. This was a side of Brevin that most people didn't see. Brevin was known for his gruffness, and irritability. The 'Administrator'.

Deena knew that the Hall wouldn't survive without his business acumen and tenacity, but she was probably the only person who realized how much the Hall meant to him, personally.

"Thank you for hearing me out, Brevin. I'm so glad I have you as a friend." she said, at last.

Brevin blinked and pulled his hand back in seeming embarrassment. "No problem. I'm glad I could be of help."


	14. Chapter 14: The Game

It was a madhouse. Deena had never seen such a gathering of people in one place in all her life. Ky huddled near her side clutching her hand tightly._ This is quite possibly the most foolish thing I've ever done, _she thought ruefully.

She looked down at her young charge, who was peering around with great interest, and thought, _But quite worth it..._

Ky had taken to Blitzball better than she could have hoped. He'd read the magazines, and something had apparently appealed to him, because he soaked them up like a sponge. Within a week he was putting up posters of the players, and Deena had seen him in the common room discussing the relative merits of various team strategies with some of the other children.

So when he'd come to her and asked her to take him to an actual game at the stadium, she was torn between delight, and dread.

Delight, because he was beginning to come out of his shell, and dread, because she could see no way, with his condition, to take him to the brightly lit stadium.

At the doubt on her face he'd begun desperately trying to change her mind. "Please, Deena! I'll take my potions! I'll sit in the back, where it's dark! I'll..I'll...I'll wear my glasses!" he'd pled. Deena had found it impossible to disappoint him.

And so it was they found themselves in front of the new stadium, surrounded by hordes of Blitzball fans, about to attend their first game.

The two teams playing this evening were supposed to be the best in the league (according to Ky) and fierce rivals. The game tonight was going to be heavily attended, to see who was the better team. There were people all around them, chattering excitedly about the upcoming contest, waving banners and showing their support. Deena figured nearly half the city must be gathered here, tonight. Over the excited hum of the fans, she could hear the announcers start their pre-game spiel.

"Deena?" Ky said, hesitantly.

"Um?" she said, distractedly thinking about a seat in the back, as far away from the lights as possible.

"Do you think we'll meet any of the players?" he said, hopefully.

Deena looked down at him and gave a small smile. "Sorry. I think they go right from the pool to the locker rooms."

Ky nodded resignedly and looked ahead to the arena. There were lights swinging around, casting long shadows and throwing the approaching crowd into silhouette. The crowd was slowly moving forward along the corridor towards the source of the light show.

Deena looked down at Ky, who was slowing as they approached the lights.

"You sure about this, Ky?" she asked, quietly. "If it's too much for you, we can leave at any time."

Ky swallowed and said, "No. I can do this." He reluctantly reached into a small pack that he'd brought with him and pulled out his glasses. They had been designed to protect his eyes from the light, but whoever had designed them hadn't given any thought to subtlety.

They covered the entire upper half of Ky's face and wrapped around the sides of his head like a welding mask. Ky avoided wearing them to the point that he'd been known to hide them to avoid it. Ky _hated_ being treated differently because of his affliction, and the glasses might as well have been a neon sign.

Glancing around, Ky strapped them into place and quickly pulled up his hood. The shadow cast by the hood obscured the upper half of his face and with it in place, he looked like any other boy. Ky smiled up at her and slipped his hand back into hers.

Deena had to admit that the new stadium was impressive. So far, all the architecture tended towards the larger scale. The corridor they were moving down was many stories high, with the ceiling receding into darkness. Adding to the festive air, banners had been hung from the ceiling at regular intervals extolling the various teams in the league.

Lining the walls were many kiosks selling the t-shirts, banners, photos and all of the other paraphernalia associated with Blitzball fandom. The vendors were all geared up and shouting the merits and benefits of owning the latest fad in blitzball gear, adding to the general pandemonium.

At long last, they entered the main arena and headed up to their seats. It was pretty far up, but the seats were lushly upholstered, and they had a clear view of the floor.

Deena looked around in confusion. The colored overhead spotlights were sweeping back and forth over the carpeted floor where the pre-game entertainment was just finishing up. She leaned over and said, "Ky, I may not know much about Blitzball, but I know it's played underwater! Where's the sphere pool?"

Ky turned his head towards her and gave her a small secretive smile, saying only, "You'll see."

She could feel the excitement of all the fans beginning to ramp up and here and there she could hear chants of Blitzball! Blitzball! Blitzball! Slowly, the rest of the crowd picked up the chant, and soon the whole arena resonated with it. Unnerved, Deena looked over at Ky and saw that oddly, he was mesmerized.

Abruptly, the lights went out, and the crowd went silent for a moment. Then an excited buzz swept the room as a series of spotlights swept down from hidden coves in the ceiling spiraling down to the very center of the main floor. Illuminated by the lights stood a well-muscled young man dressed entirely in black. He began to rise into the air upon a hover platform. As he rose into the air, he raised his arms out to either side of himself, like a priest about to give a benediction.

"Welcome, ladies and gentlemen of the City That Never Sleeps! Welcome, people of the realms beyond! Welcome, one and all! Tonight, prepare to be astounded by the athletic prowess of the two finest teams in all of Zanarkand!" he said, voice echoing around the vast chamber.

The buzz became a roar and cheers and applause nearly drowned out his words. He held up his hands for silence and continued. "Tonight we host, for your entertainment, the Zanarkand... League... Championship!"

The crowd leapt to it's feet in an ecstacy of approval. The roar nearly deafened Deena and she threw her hands over her ears and winced. Ky leaned forward in rapt attention.

The announcer began to slowly revolve, giving the appearance of eye contact with everyone in the crowd, and his wicked smile promised a grand surprise.

"Introducing... the Zanarkand Duggles!" he roared, gesturing to the rafters.

Spotlights began to pop on, one after the other, revealing the players standing on the catwalk running the circumference of the arena's uppermost level. They stood there, as cocky as the gladiators of old. Some of them waved at the adoring crowd. Most just looked impatient to start the game.

"Aaand...defending their title..." The announcer gave another cocky grin. "The Zanarkand Abes!"

And somehow, the crowd roared even louder as the rest of the spotlights popped on, illuminating the Abes.

Deena could feel the vibration of sound in her bones._ I can't believe I'm doing this, _she thought amusedly.

The Abes players were all grinning, basking in the adulation of their fans. They looked like they'd won the game already, from the way they were posing and waving.

As soon as the fan's attention was safely on the two teams in the upper levels, the hover platform had descended and the announcer had returned from wherever he'd come from. In his place, four sturdy columns had risen nearly to the roof at the widest points of the circular arena. Over the cheers of the crowd, she could hear the faint hum from the field generators imbedded in the center of each. The generators ensconced in the roof and the floor completed the circuit, and a perfect globular field was created.

_Of course_, Deena thought, mentally slapping her forehead. Researchers had been experimenting with force field technology for some time, now.

From hidden doors, four people in mage robes approached the field. With perfect synchronicity, they raised their arms and cast their strongest water spells at the center of the sphere. With an explosion of displaced air and mist, the sphere pool was filled, instantly.

Deena had to admit, this was a heck of a show. One of the best she'd seen, actually. She was actually getting excited about a game she'd never seen before! She glanced down at Ky and smiled. He was leaning forward, entranced by the theatrics. He looked like every other boy in the stadium, and that was all Deena had ever wanted for him.

At some unknown signal, the players from the two teams jumped into the pool, one after the other. They began to warm up, twisting and turning like the lithe athletes they were. Soon they had all settled into their proper formations and waited for the starting signal.

_Blitz off!_

The players eruptedtowards each other, fighting for possession of the small blue and white ball. Finally, one player snagged it, and thrust himself through the water towards the brightly lit enemy goal. An opposing team member intercepted him halfway to his goal. There was a flash as he tackled the ball carrier, and the young man lost the ball. The victorious player sped off towards the opposite side of the pool.

Deena could see why the Abes were the team favored to win. The team worked quite well as a whole, with each player working toward his or her strengths. They passed the ball back and forth among themselves, often times right under the other teams noses. The crowd cheered them on with every goal they scored.

The Duggles were no slouches, however. Their players were fast and very aggressive. If the Abes let down their defense for an instant, the Duggles stole the ball. They watched for the slightest hesitation, and used it to their advantage. Deena had to admire them, as well.

By halftime, both teams were still even. As they filed out of the pool, the teams were glaring at each other and the crowd was nearly in a frenzy.

Deena turned towards Ky and peered at his flushed face. He seemed to be having a great time. She hoped he didn't pay for it later with a vicious headache.

"Did you see that play by the Duggle's Center?" Ky crowed. "He scored that goal with the Sphere Shot! That was _amazing_!" Ky was bouncing in his seat.

Deena smiled and gestured to a vendor who was selling snacks. He grinned and tossed her two sandwiches. She gave one to Ky who promptly wolfed it down.

The lights dimmed briefly as a signal that the game would resume in a minute. The crowd began to hum excitedly, and people jostled her as they rushed back to their seats.

The Blitzoff signal had barely been sounded when the players surged towards each other, determined to win. So far, there hadn't been any serious injuries, but Deena wasn't sure that they could avoid that much longer, if they continued to play as they were.

Players slammed into each other and the ball spun back and forth between the teams faster than the eye could follow. Deena winced in sympathy as one fellow tackled one of the other players so hard that he was slammed right out of the sphere pool!

The crowd had slowly fallen silent as the tension level in the stadium built, and the time clock counted down. Suddenly, there seemed to be a commotion as one of the younger players snatched the ball, and sped towards the opposing goal. Ky leaned forward and cheered.

"He's gonna do the Jecht Shot!" Ky gasped.

_Jecht Shot?_ Deena wondered. The young player was blocked by two of the Duggle players and all seemed lost, but the young man merely grinned. He tossed the ball up and pounded it into one of the guarding players. It bounced back to the Abe and he pounded it into the second player. The crowd screamed in delight. Defying gravity, the young man hurled himself upward right out of the pool, and spun himself around, preparing to kick the final, winning goal. The entire stadium held their breath in reverence.

Suddenly, the lights went out, and there were screams of shock and outrage from the frustrated fans.

Deena stood up, trying to see what may have happened, when the sphere pool collapsed. She could hear the screams of the players as they plummeted to the floor, far below.

She could feel the surging terror of the frightened crowd and she reached for Ky, to get them out of the panicked rush.

Then the roof caved in.

People were screaming and racing towards the exits as the stadium officials rushed to reassure the panicking masses. Deena pressed Ky against the wall to avoid being swept apart. She could see strange flashes of light through the hole in the roof. Large chunks of masonry trembled and fell, crushing the fleeing fans.

"Deena!" Ky shouted. "What's happening?"

She wrapped her arms around him protectively and moved towards the emergency exit. "I don't know, Ky, but we will be all right. Stay calm, and follow me."

Deena and Ky pressed themselves against the outer wall and inched towards the back. They were almost out when it felt like the floor rose up and slammed them down. The resulting sound slapped into Deena's ears and knocked her silly. She collapsed to the floor, coughing in the dust.

"KY!" She shouted, unable to hear. _Oh, gods! Where is he? _


	15. Chapter 15: Triumph

Deena pushed herself up from the rubble-strewn floor. She wiped the grit from her streaming eyes and peered anxiously around. What she saw dropped her jaw in shock.

The stadium had been badly damaged by whatever had happened. One wall had collapsed entirely, and the few people still standing were scrambling over the masonry to escape. The ceiling was gone, and she could see the stars from where she huddled. The tiered seats had been wrenched from their moorings and were twisted like some modern art sculpture.

More horrifying were the bloodied bodies trapped under the collapsed chunks of concrete. There were so many dead...What had happened?

And where was Ky?

"KY!" Deena screamed, terrified that he might be among the dead or dying.

Cautiously, she moved out from under the steel girder that had probably saved her life. Her leg was bleeding and she could feel that her shoulder had been badly wrenched. "Ky! Where are you? Answer me!" she called, desperately.

She could hear the moans and shouts of the injured, and she wondered frantically where the emergency crews were. She made her way down over the seats and headed towards the remains of the corridors leading to the locker rooms. She hoped there were private entrances down there, because she had no way out, otherwise.

The last row of seating was a good seven feet up from the primary floor of the arena, and Deena could see no other way down. She slowly scootched herself to the edge of the wide rail surrounding the arena. Gritting her teeth, she lowered herself over the side with her good arm, and tried to steady herself with her injured one.

It didn't quite work as well as she'd hoped, because both arms gave out and she dropped the last few feet like a stone. She landed hard, and knocked the wind out of herself. She could feel the panic welling up and she fought to compose herself. This was the only place Ky could have gone. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Ky was okay. _He has to be! _She thought, desperately.

"Ky! Are you down here?"

"Deena! I'm over here!" she heard, faintly. Closing her eyes in a quick prayer of thanks, Deena pushed herself up again and stumbled towards the opening left in one wall.

She ducked her head to avoid the piling that had fallen across the entrance and peered into the darkness beyond. Just inside the doorway, Ky was huddled against the wall. Standing protectively over him, was one of the players from the competition. In her panic, all she could remember about him was an article in one of the gossip columns linking him with some popular songstress.

"He's okay, ma'am. Just a little bruised." The young man seemed very relieved to give Ky over to her keeping. "Are _you_ all right?" he said, looking her over, critically. Deena smiled, crookedly. "I'll be fine, thank you." The young blonde nodded, abruptly, and smiled back."Thank you. Thank you so much!" Deena said. He sketched a quick salute and loped off.

She hunkered down and peered into Ky's face. "Are you okay, Ky? Don't try and be a hero, either. If you're hurt, tell me." She brushed the hair back from his forehead.

Ky cleared his throat. "My head hurts," he said softly. "And I think I sprained my ankle."

Deena pushed his hood down, and removed his glasses, gently. His eyes looked bloodshot, but otherwise showed no trauma. "The light?" she said softly. He nodded and ducked his head.

She carefully moved his injured leg out and palpitated his ankle. Ky gasped, and bit his lip. "Yes. You sprained it." She rocked back on her heels and swept the hair away from her sweaty face. She ripped a strip from her tunic and wrapped it firmly around his tender ankle. "Better?" she asked, tying the ends off.

Ky winced a little, then nodded. He gingerly put more of his weight on the injured foot, and reached out a hand to steady himself.

"We have to get out of here, now." Deena said, looking around at the twisted wreckage and debris. "Do you know if there are any exits down here, Ky?"

Ky smiled, grimly, and nodded. "Yes. The locker rooms connect to a private hallway that leads out to the main hallways. If it isn't buried, that is."

_We have no other choice_, Deena realized. She wrapped Ky's arm about her waist and moved away from the wall. Ky shuddered a little and then began moving towards the darkened corridor. Deena could feel the concrete shuddering as unseen walls collapsed from the stress, on other floors. She tried not to think about what would happen if they were trapped down there in the darkness. Her feet slowed as the light faded, and she could no longer navigate with any confidence. Ky felt her reluctance and said, looking up at her, "Let me lead. I can still see."

Deena's world narrowed to moving one foot after the other and hoping they were getting somewhere. It felt strange, depending on Ky to keep her safe.

"Here. To your right." Ky said, suddenly. Deena reached out a hand and felt a doorlatch under her questing fingers. She pulled on the latch and let out her breath in a whoosh when it obediently opened.

Light spilled into the corridor, and Deena shielded her eyes in the sudden brightness. She could feel Ky scrabbling to put on his polarized glasses.

"We have survivors!" someone shouted. Hands grabbed at her and she stiffened, instinctively. "It's okay, Ma'am! We're here to rescue you! Calm down!"

She blinked a few times and the shapes became men, with lights and digging equipment. "Is there anyone else in there?" one asked, urgently.

"No, I mean, yes." she swallowed. "I don't know. There are people back there, but I don't know if they survived." She blinked, again. "What happened? Why did it collapse?"

She could feel Ky's small hand twined in hers. "Someone attacked the stadium, Ma'am. Dunno who." His voice seemed to come from a very long way off. _Attacked_, Deena thought, fuzzily. The light seemed to be fading, and she thought she heard a shout, before it all faded completely.


	16. Chapter 16: Aftermath

Yevon had been debating a point of law with his lady wife, when an aide burst into the chamber, narrowly avoiding death at the hands of Yevon's guards.

Mira took the poor aide by the shoulders and guided him to a small couch. "Breathe, Lenna. Then tell us what has you so rattled!" she ordered.

"Lord Yevon, Lady Mira," the aide gasped. "The stadium...It's been destroyed!"

Yevon stared at the young man, not believing his ears. "What?" he snapped. He looked to Mira, and she looked as flabbergasted as he.

The aide nodded, and swallowed, hard. "Reports are that some..light...flashed out of the skies, and the stadium...just...crumbled!" He drank from the glass that Mira offered.

Mira looked quickly at her husband. "How many casualties?" she said, mentally running through procedures and determining the best course of action.

"I don't know, M'lady...The rescue workers are there, now, but no reports yet." The young aide looked up at them, horrorstruck. "It was a big game, and everyone was there!"

Yevon closed his eyes and offered a prayer to the lost. He licked his lips and said, "Convene the council. They must be told."

Mira strode into the large chamber that was the primary office of the Consort. In years past, it had gone unused. Most of the Spouses chose not to bother with mundane chores, and thus, the room's sparseness. Mira had livened it up as she settled into her role as co-ruler, though it was an unofficial title. Yevon never expected her to fade into the background as so many did.

She settled at the console and logged on. Soon she was wading through the chatter and chaos, and organizing the workers and supplies, directing the efforts where they were needed most. She worked tirelessly making sure that all the rescue workers were relieved when they needed to be, and made sure that everyone was accounted for. She accessed the royal coffers, and allocated everything she could to the efforts.

_What could have happened?_ She thought to herself. _Who would attack us? We have no enemies!_

She tapped the screen and called up some of the initial reports of the disaster. Witness accounts, primarily, at this stage.

Most reported seeing flashes of colored light before everything went wrong. Mira gnawed at one torn fingernail. She wondered idly if a mage bent on destruction could do this level of damage.

_Probably not..maybe a group of them?_ She frowned, angrily. _Who would do this?_ She could feel her own frustrated rage building, and thought of Yevon. She shook her head. Yevon must be blistering the skin off his councillors, by now.

Reports began trickling in of survivors, and Mira breathed a sigh of relief. At least some got out...

The Stadium itself was badly damaged. The top level of the stadium looked as if it had been sheared off, entirely. The debris was scattered over a square mile. People who weren't even at the stadium had been struck by the rubble, when the roof went.

She dialed up the image on her screen and examined it, critically. The primary force seemed to have come from the southern quadrant...

"Mother!" her daughter burst out as she sprinted into the room. "Where have you been? I've been looking everywhere for you!" Yunalesca skidded to a stop in front of the desk, and looked at her mother, frowning. "I was worried!"

Mira looked up at her daughter, distractedly. "I told Melia to tell you that everything was okay. What are you doing out of our quarters, and where is Lord Zaon?"

"Here, M'lady." Lord Zaon said, entering the room and frowning at Yunalesca. His sandy hair was mussed, and his robes askew, but he was as unruffled as ever.

"LadyYunalesca...forgot...to mention her desire to speak with you, this evening." he said, dryly. "I was hard-pressed to keep up with her. Your forgiveness, M'lady."

Yunalesca snorted rudely and stared at her mother. "What happened? The guards were all racing around as if we were under attack! Are we?"her eyes shone with excitement.

Mira frowned at her. "I don't know, yet. The stadium seems to have collapsed. We're trying to determine.."

"What?" Yunalesca gasped. "The stadium? The new one? _Why_?"

Lord Zaon stepped forward. "My apologies, Lady. I will escort her back to your quarters.."

"No, that's all right, Lord Zaon." Mira said, looking at her daughter. "I think she should see this."

Yunalesca looked triumphantly at Lord Zaon. She swept around the desk and looked over her mother's shoulder. "Was it a flaw in the design?"

Mira looked at the screen and said, "No. Everything so far points to an outside attack." she sighed, deeply. "The casualties are high."

Yunalesca sobered as the words sank in. "Casualties? How many?"

"Unknown, as of yet. But the stadium was at capacity at the time." Mira said, feeling a headache forming behind her eyes.

Lord Zaon closed his eyes, in sympathy. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

Mira shook her head. "No, I need you here, in case this is just the precursor to something else." Yunalesca looked up, finally realizing that this was no adventure.

Mira put an arm around her daughter's shoulders. "Honey, it would ease my mind if I knew you were safe in our quarters." She looked up at Lord Zaon. "Please accompany her to her rooms, will you?"

"As you will it, M'lady." Lord Zaon bowed deeply and offered his arm to Yunalesca. She took it, with a vaguely disconcerted look upon her face. She looked up at him, uncertainly, and said, "Thank you, Lord Zaon."

Startled, he looked down at her, raised an eyebrow and smiled. "It is my pleasure, Lady Yunalesca."

"Who is responsible for this atrocity!" Lord Benkat shouted. He slammed his fist on the table for emphasis, and the drinking glasses jumped. "We must find them, and bring them to immediate justice!'

Yevon looked out from under his brows at the overwrought minister and clenched his jaw. "This is not the time for rhetoric, Minister Benkat. We cannot go out blindly accusing anyone until we have proof. And for that, we need research and study."

"You'll make us look weak if we don't respond to such an audacious act! We must respond immediately!" Benkat growled. He stood and glared at his ruler.

"Respond? Respond how, Minister? And at whom?" Yevon said, flatly. "Do you know something I do not?" Yevon gracefully stood and faced the minister, who was by now, quivering with rage. "Shall I just raze all the outlying cities to the ground, and hope that one of them is our attacker? Don't be a fool, Benkat."

Yevon turned to his council. "Zanarkand has apparently been attacked, by unknown persons. We do not know by whom as of yet," he said with a glance at the ruddy Benkat. "And as such, we will need all of our resources working together in concert to find who did this, and why."

Yevon began moving around the table, looking each faction in the eye. "We must not allow our traditional inter-guild bickering to interfere with such important work." He stopped under the flags of state, at the far end of the table. "Do not let your anger blind you to any truths you may find. Now more than ever, we need to stand united and uphold our ideals, in this task. Zanarkand and her peoples are depending on us, looking to us to show them the way. Do not let them down."

Yevon looked down the length of the council table and was pleased to see that the panic and anger had calmed and most were looking resolute, and eager. Most were murmuring to their neighbors, making plans and trying to organize what would surely be the biggest manhunt Zanarkand had ever seen. Even Lord Benkat had begun scribbling notes and leaning forward to talk to the Minister of Finance.

"If there are no questions?" Yevon paused, eyebrows raised. "Then this meeting is at an end." He turned and strode purposefully out of the chamber.


	17. Chapter 17: Partnership

The mages were on High Alert. As soon as the word came through that the stadium had been attacked, Benkat had ordered all available mage warriors to their posts, around the city. The secondary mages, those with pure magic skills, were told to ready themselves for anything.

Hospitals were put on priority status, and citizens were asked to avoid all unnecessary travel. The streets emptied almost immediately, and the City That Never Sleeps grew unusually quiet.

Tisha, under Benkat's orders, began scouring the reports on the initial findings, looking for evidence of magecraft at work. Samples of the charred wreckage were directed to the proper authorities and scrutinized.

Legolas found her several hours later, squinting at her 'screen, a plate of untouched sandwiches at her side.

"Love, you haven't eaten." he said, frowning as he crossed the room to her side.

"Mmm?" she said, distracted by a new post.

Legolas raised one brow, and turned her chair so she was facing him. A look of annoyance flashed across her face, until she realized who had interrupted.

"I'm sorry..." she said, wearily. She started to turn back, but Legolas held on to the chair.

"Not until you've eaten something." he said, firmly. "You haven't been out of that chair since the meeting, have you?"

She frowned. "Of course not..this is important, Legolas!"

Legolas sighed. "I know that, Tish, but you can't burn yourself out within the first few hours. You have aides, too. Let them handle some of this. Eat something. Walk around a bit. Let your ideas have a chance to gestate..."

Tisha ducked her head and nodded. "You're right. I'm sorry. This just...has me all wound up. So many innocents, dead..."

She looked up at him, haunted. "And, I don't think this was an accident. Or magecraft. It doesn't have the right...flavor." She moistened her lips. "All the samples we've brought back have some strange residue on them. We know all the normal residues left by magecraft. This...is different. I don't know what it could be from."

Legolas wrinkled his brow. "A fiend?"

Tisha shook her head. "Gods, I hope not! A fiend strong enough to take out the whole stadium by itself? There _are_ no such fiends."

She stood up and crossed the room, arms wrapped around herself. She stood at the window and looked down over the unnaturally quiet city. Far in the distance, she could make out the lights from the workers at the remains of the stadium.

Tisha knew that the Summoner's guild had recalled all available Summoners to the site, to send the hundreds of lost and frightened souls from the disaster. Eyewitness reports mentioned the eerily beautiful light cast by the pyreflies flitting through the wreckage. She hoped never to see it. It would haunt her dreams for years, she was sure.

Legolas put a comforting hand on her arm. She turned to him and buried her face in his shoulder.

* * *

Yevon was in the training room, working off some of his frustration on one of his guards. The poor man was hard-pressed to keep up with his Lord. Yevon's face was contorted in anger and he swung and parried his sword like one possesed. The guard stumbled backwards, and Yevon found himself holding the sword point at the younger man's throat.

"I yield, my lord!" the young man cried out. Yevon blinked and slowly lowered his weapon.

"My apologies, Dugen. It was a good workout. Thank you." he smiled absently at the guard, who looked quite relieved when it was clear that Yevon was not going to continue his 'practice'.

Legolas looked after the guard as he walked out of the training room as fast as his dignity would allow. "A bit overzealous, aren't we?" he said, wryly.

Yevon scowled as he wiped the sweat from his brow. "What do you mean? Now is the worst time to be out of practice." He stormed over to the weapons rack and replaced his blade.

Legolas strolled across the floor, hands clasped behind him. "Well..yes. But killing off the guards before we even know the enemy seems a bit...excessive."

Yevon glared at his friend and said nothing. Legolas smiled, knowingly. "Look, if you want a workout, why didn't you ask me? I enjoy kicking your butt around the room..."

Yevon's lips tightened and he frowned for a moment more before nodding, curtly. "Fine. Let's do this." He retrieved the sword and turned to his friend.

_He really does need to get this out of his system..._Legolas thought. Keeping an eye on Yevon, he went to the weapons rack and looked at the glittering blades before picking out a likely one.

He turned and saluted Yevon with his sword. He settled into the opening stance and nodded. Yevon's sword flashed and drew sparks as it clashed against Legolas'.

Legolas grunted and struggled to throw Yevon off. _He's been practicing,_ he thought, impressed. He twisted and ducked under the blade, narrowly avoiding losing an ear.

Warily, now, Legolas circled around, sword at the ready. Yevon's nostrils were flaring and his jaw clenched as he stared at his friend. Legolas feinted at Yevon's weaker side, and spun around to jab at his unprotected ribs. Once again, their swords crashed together, ringing through the empty room. Legolas disengaged first and backed up. Yevon followed, determined to overcome Legolas.

Legolas let himself relax into the swordplay. He let his instincts guide his blade as he and his friend danced around the room, blades flashing and glinting in the light.

The two were fairly evenly matched, and after a short while, both were panting from the exertion. Legolas looked at Yevon and saw that the madness that had possessed his friend seemed to have passed. He grinned, and said, "Had enough, old man?"

Roughly wiping the sweat out of his eyes, Yevon glared for a moment, before nodding. Each man slowly lowered their swords and nodded at the other. "Thank you." Yevon said brusquely.

Legolas grinned. "No problem. If it keeps you from abusing the poor guards..."

Yevon glared for a moment and then smiled, briefly. "You're right. I lost my temper again." He sighed heavily, and continued. "I couldn't keep it in, anymore. I just couldn't see past my anger. Those people who died today...they were killed by something I did. Something I should have done, someone I should have listened to. I don't know what it is, but it's my fault." He wiped a hand over his face and closed his eyes.

"It's not your fault." Legolas clapped a hand on Yevon's shoulder. "Only cowards fight their battles through the bodies of the innocent." He let his hand slide off, and went on. "We'll find them, Yevon. I promise you that. And then we will bring them to justice."


	18. Chapter 18: Reactions

Deena felt something rubbing her hand and twitched it away in annoyance. _Can't I sleep in just this once, _she thought, frowning.

"Oh, Deena, thank the gods you're awake!" rumbled a voice next to her bed.

Her eyes snapped open and she jerked away from the unfamiliar sound.

Brevin's rumpled face peered anxiously into her own. Deena blinked in confusion, and sat up. "Don't stress yourself, the healer said you should stay quiet." he growled.

Slowly the memories trickled back into the proper places, and she gasped, curling in on herself.

Brevin patted her shoulder, awkwardly, and said, "It's okay...you're safe, now."

She sank back onto her pillows, and then bolted up again. "Ky!" she gasped.

"He's fine. He's back at the Hall. The healers fixed him up, and released him a few hours ago. They were more worried about you..." Brevin said, peering anxiously into her face. "You fainted at the feet of the rescuers."

Deena frowned, trying to remember. "How long was I out?" she said, slowly.

"Ten hours." At Deena's stunned look, he hastened to add, "They say it was probably mostly due to shock." He frowned at her. "You don't take care of yourself. You should eat more."

That elicited a shocked giggle from her. She put a hand over her mouth, but the giggles kept leaking out. Soon she was laughing so hard tears were streaming down her face. Brevin stared at her, aghast.

"What's so funny?" he demanded.

"Eat more? _Eat_ more?" she howled. She broke into a fresh gale of laughter and rocked back and forth on her bed.

_I could have died. We both could have died._ The thought ran circles through her mind, like a mantra. Soon the laughter gave way to sobs, and she flung herself into Brevin's arms, weeping into his broad chest.

Stunned, Brevin stiffened, not sure what to do. She clung to him like he was her last haven against the world. At last, he tilted his head down to hers and patted her back like a small child that needed soothing. He murmured soft nonsensical words and let her cry herself out.

When the sobs finally gave way, Deena pulled back, suddenly aware of what a mess she was making of Brevin's shirt.

"I'm so sorry..." she began, self-consciously wiping at her swollen eyes.

"Pfft. Don't worry about it," he said, running a meaty hand through his perpetually mussed hair. He smiled, and looked at her. "I'm glad I could help."

The door opened behind him, and one of the younger healers-in-training glided in. She looked at Deena's red, swollen face in alarm and glared at Brevin. "Visiting hours are over, sir."

At his affronted look, Deena had to fight back a fresh bout of giggles. "It's okay, Brevin. I will see you tomorrow."

Brevin frowned at the healer and then turned to Deena. "If you're sure..."

"Don't worry about me. I promise not to fall into hysterics again." She took a deep breath and smiled. "See?"

Brevin nodded, and turned to go. "Give me a call tomorrow, and I'll give you a lift home."

"Will do."she said, and settled back into her pillows.

Brevin strode along the walkway towards the Children's Hall, hands stuffed deep into the pockets of his worn cloth coat.

_Idiot..._he thought, angrily. _She's suffering, and frightened, and you chide her about her eating habits. _He shook his head, scowling at the world in general.

When he'd heard about the stadium, he'd damn near had a heart attack. The thought that Deena could be dead, had nearly destroyed him.

He'd given up trying to deny his feelings towards her some years back. He knew she didn't feel the same as he did, but it was okay, as long as he could be near her.

Now, he wasn't so sure. If he'd lost her...He frowned and kicked at a small rock, bouncing it off a sign directing visitors to the local information kiosk.

He'd spent the past hours muttering vows to whatever gods might be listening. He'd promised to do almost anything, if Deena would wake up and be okay.

The wide, bright sign of the Children's hall appeared on the horizon. He increased his pace, trying to outrun his thoughts. He was afraid that he'd never be able to go back to the comfortable companionship that they'd shared before this had happened.

He couldn't imagine letting her out of his sight, ever again.

Brevin pushed the door open impatiently and was stunned to see a mage guard standing in the foyer.

His jaw clenched and he stared at the intruder. "Who the hell are you?" he snarled. "And what do you want here?"He strode up to the man and stared directly into his face.

The man tilted an eyebrow at Brevin and said, calmly, "I am here to guard this establishment from any intrusions by persons unknown." He crossed his arms and looked impassively at the Hall's director.

_That bad already..._Brevin thought, disturbed. "Who authorized this? I am the director of this establishment, and I sure as hell don't remember authorizing any such thing."

"It is by command of the Council." the mage said. "The authority of the Council supercedes your own, I believe."

"Hmmph. Fine. Just don't interfere with the children. We work hard at providing a stable home for these kids, and mages just don't figure into that equation...get me?" Brevin growled, pushing past the guard.

Safely in his office, Brevin shoved his fingers through his ruddy hair, until it was practically standing on end. He could feel the muscles in his shoulders knotting up with the effort of not lashing out. _Too old for this..._he thought. He stormed over to the window and leaned out, fingers clenched on the sill as if he would rip it from it's moorings.

He took a deep breath in through his nose and let it out with a snort. He hated feeling out of control. And ever since that attack, that's exactly how he'd been feeling. _Who the hell would attack a stadium full of innocents? All those children..._

His fist clenched, and he punched the wall, before he could stop himself._ Dammit_, he thought. He scowled again. _Now you're just gonna have to repair it...good job._

He went to the maintenance closet and gathered up the stuff to repair his wall. He slathered the compound on the trowel and began to patch the wall that he'd damaged.

Far out on the horizon, a small squadron of flight craft hovered in the shadow of Mount Gagazet. They'd been there since they'd launched the attack on Zanarkand.

Each craft had been built with stealth in mind. They were sleek and small, capable only of carrying one person. Armed with pulse cannons, each craft was fully capable of destroying anything it came up against. Their speed was unmatched by anything else so far invented. They were designed solely for destruction.

The pilots had been instructed to choose a public target, annihilate it, and then move out for observation. If no threat was observed, then they were to continue their mission.

They were nearing the end of their observation phase, and no immediate threat had been forthcoming. The pilots had reported their findings to home base and were awaiting further instructions, prior to moving back in.

Finally the word came through. Continue with the mission and cleanse the city of it's impurities.


	19. Chapter 19: Attacks

Yevon ran a hand through his hair, and grimaced. "This waiting around is going to be the death of me. We must take a stand. We have to let our enemies know we will not let this go unanswered!"

He strode past a startled guard, who snapped a quick salute, which Yevon ignored in his frustration with the state of affairs in Zanarkand.

"I thought you were on the side of careful observation, and level-headedness?" Legolas said, brow raised.

He sidestepped a young girl who was carefully polishing a statue, and gave her a quick grin. She blushed and dropped her rag.

"Are you listening to me?" Yevon said, scowling.

"Yes, Yevon, I am. You want to run out and destroy our unknown enemies. Join the club." Legolas tilted his head towards Yevon. "_Unknown_ being the problem."

He strolled along just behind Yevon, who was storming through the corridor, as if the enemy was just around the next corner.

"You aren't taking this seriously, as usual."Yevon snapped.

Legolas stopped dead and grabbed Yevon's arm. "_I'm_ not your enemy. Don't take out your frustration on me. You tell me who we're fighting, and I won't rest until they are contained, or dead. You know that!"

He frowned at his friend. "I just see no point to winding myself up, when there's nothing to fight."

Yevon clenched his jaw, took a deep breath, and then let it out with a whoosh. "I'm sorry. You're right. As usual."

He turned and started walking again. After a moment, Legolas followed, frowning thoughtfully.

* * *

Mira was gazing out of the window when Legolas and Yevon returned. She smiled and said, "Any news?"

Legolas plopped down on a sofa, and grunted.

"I take it that's a no?" Mira said, wryly.

"You presume correctly, love." Yevon said, crossing to her and folding her into his arms. He sighed. "And I've been taking it out on Legolas, here."

Mira snorted. "It amazes me you two are still friends, the way you treat each other, sometimes."

"I'm a saint, I know." Legolas said with a pious look.

Mira threw a pillow at him. "Oh, hush."

Yevon sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I'm going to take a shower."

He kissed his wife distractedly, and left the room.

Mira frowned after him and said, "I hate to see him so upset."

Legolas snorted and said, wryly, "You should have seen him about an hour ago. He's _much_ calmer than he was."

He slumped back on the sofa and grimaced. "He's taking this far too personally."

Mira drew her knees up to her chin and rested her head on them. "That's one of the reasons I married him, you know."

Legolas looked at her askance, and said, "What? You _like_ living with a madman?"

Mira laughed and answered, "No, of course not. It's his... all-encompassing passion for the people."

She tilted her head, searching for the right words. "He's always had this vision of what Zanarkand, what all of Spira, _could_ be. This...wanton destruction _hurts_ him. It goes against his natural idea of order and harmony."

She smiled, remembering. "It's the main reason why he challenged for leadership of Zanarkand. To be able to finally act on his dream, and leave his mark on the world."

Legolas frowned thoughtfully, and considered her words. "You know, I think you're right."

Once again, he found himself admiring the mind of the woman who'd married his best friend.

A small chime interrupted the silence.

Mira leaned over and palmed the desk receiver on. "Yes?"

"A ship approaches and requests safe harbor and an audience with his Lordship." one of the under secretaries responded.

Mira blinked and said, "Who captains her?"

A pause, and then "A 'Captain Dukot', of Bikanel, m'lady."

"Tell him, 'Welcome, and safe harbor'. Let me know when they dock, and have him brought to the main conference room." Mira said, briskly.

She palmed the receiver off, and turned to Legolas. "Duty calls."

* * *

The primary conference room was large enough to seat fifty people at the main table, with plenty of elbow room. The walls were hung with colorful tapestries of fabled heroic deeds, and mythical fiends. The floor had been carpeted, to deaden as much noise as possible. There were several floor to ceiling glass doors, that opened to small balconies, overlooking a sheer drop to the ocean, several hundred feet down. On pleasant days such as this, the doors were left open, their heavy curtains tied back with decorative swathes of fabric.

Dukot rose when Yevon and his wife walked in, and said, "I came as soon as I heard. My sympathies on this tragedy." He bowed his head. "I've brought several specialists with me, to assist in recovering your dead, and as much equipment as we could spare, to aid in the cleanup. We also brought several crates of supplies. First aid, food, things like that."

Yevon bowed and said, "Thank you, Lord Dukot. You are a friend to us all."

He waved at the couch that Dukot had risen from and said, "Sit. We have much to talk about."

Mira smiled at Yevon and said, "We can use a fresh perspective, Dukot. We've worn ourselves out, trying to determine what may have happened."

Dukot nodded, firmly. "Perhaps if we had access to some of what you've already covered, to prevent us from following dead ends?"

Mira looked to her husband, who nodded.

"Over here, we have a research station," She said, rising and crossing the floor. "We use it for a reference tool, for many things. All hard copy research is entered into a central database, which can be accessed by any one of these stations. Which level you have access to, depends on security codes."

She sat down at the console, and ran her fingers over the touchpads deftly entering in the proper codes. The screen darkened momentarily, and then the main screen lit up. "From here, you enter in the subject you wish to learn about, and all pertinent information is routed to your console."

Dukot rested one hand on the edge of the table and leaned over her shoulder, fascinated. "For instance, I'd been checking on any seismic activity that may have precipitated the disaster..." She quickly typed it in, and the screen obediently shifted, showing a list of possible topics.

"Then you just..." She stopped and looked at the screen again, and tapped a headline. The screen shifted, once again. Her brow wrinkled and she frowned.

"What is it, Mira?" Yevon said, crossing the floor to where she and Dukot were bent over the console.

"A new entry..." Lights flickered over her face as she pulled up the file. "A group of students were doing an experiment in the foothills of Mount Gagazet, which required a record of any seismic activity..."

Her eyes darted over the page. "They noted some strange readings that had nothing to do with what they were researching, but assumed that it was just equipment malfunction. They just dumped the readings in here, and didn't look at them again."

Legolas frowned and said, "So? We get useless information clogging that thing all the time!"

Mira looked over her shoulder at him. "The readings were taken at the exact same time the stadium was attacked."

"What?" Legolas exclaimed, springing from his seat and striding over to the group surrounding the research station.

Dukot straightened up and gestured for one of his retinue to join them. _"Tuac drec muug vysemeyn du oui?"_

The young tech peered over Mira's shoulder, and nodded, excitedly. "_Oac! Dryd'c dra ahanko cekhydina vnus y bimcafyht! Pid, e'ja hajan caah cilr y cdnuhk naytehk...syopa ev oui ryt rihtnatc uv dra kuehk yd uhla..."_

Yevon frowned at the rapid exchange. "What is it? Do you know what this is?"

Dukot paused a bit, rubbing his chin slowly and said, "Not exactly. It resembles the readings from a pulsewand...but not perfectly." He shrugged, apologetically.

"A...'pulsewand'?" Mira said, turning from the console.

Dukot tilted his head back, searching for a description. "It's an archaeological tool...it's used to pulverize rock and sediment from long buried finds, one layer at a time."

He looked at Yevon. "But _those_ readings...any pulsewand _that _strong would destroy anything in it's path..."

He stopped, realizing what Yevon must surely be thinking. "Lord Yevon, surely you realize my people had nothing to do with this?"

Yevon raised his brow, archly. "Do I?"

Mira spun towards him, shocked. "Yevon!"

"What, Mira? Am I not allowed to even entertain the one lead we have?" He clenched his jaw, painfully.

Dukot held his hands up, placatingly. "Lord Yevon, I swear to you, my people would not do this. We have no quarrel with you, or your people."

"Am I to believe that someone managed to invent something nearly _identical_ to your... 'pulsewand'...without any help from you?" Yevon said, nostrils flaring angrily.

Dukot's face reddened. "No. But if someone modified something that we traded..." He swallowed harshly. "We will do everything in our power to rectify this."

"Will you bring life to the dead?" Yevon nearly shouted.

Mira stood and crossed to her husband. "Yevon, _calm_ yourself..."

She got no further, as an explosion rocked the room. She and Yevon were thrown to the floor, as the windows shattered.

Legolas managed to stagger across the floor to the remains of one of the windows. He smothered a cough and leaned out over the railing.

"What do you see?" shouted Yevon pulling himself up and running to the window, after checking his wife for injury.

"Nothing!" Legolas cursed and sprinted for the hallway. People clogged the corridor, all shouting for reassurances and answers. Legolas impatiently pushed through the crowd, and headed for the conference room on the other side of the hall, closely followed by Mira, Yevon, and Dukot.

Debris and glass littered the floor, and dust was thick in the air. The windows in this room were shattered as well, but the worst of it had been contained by the thick curtains.

Legolas shoved them roughly aside, and peered out. He could hear sirens beginning to wail, confirming that they were under attack. A blue glow lit up the clouds and a small group of buildings to the south of the complex crumbled.

"Gods!" Legolas shouted, horrified. "It's the Summoner's compound! They're destroying it!"

Yevon watched, helplessly, as the strange blue light flashed across the sky, and blew another building to bits. Smoke began to billow from the wreckage, as it caught fire.

Mira clutched at Yevon's robes. "Yevon! Yunalesca is in there! She's training with Sambrian this week!" she cried.

Yevon went white. His lips moved in a silent prayer, as he spun and ran for the door. Legolas grabbed him, before he could get any farther. "No! Yevon, don't be a fool!"

"Get off of me!" Yevon shouted. He struggled against his friend, futilely. "I have to get my daughter!"

Legolas stared into his haunted eyes. "There's nothing you can do. She's either all right, or not. I _cannot_ let you get yourself killed. You have a duty to your people, Yevon. They need you to be strong!" He shook Yevon by the shoulders. "Please, Yevon! _I_ will look for her!"

Yevon stared at his friend, and then nodded, mutely.


	20. Chapter 20: Deliverance

Sambrian lay on his side in the wreckage and prepared to die.

He was trapped beneath the remains of the outer gates. The hardened steel lay twisted and crazed into a cage around his body. A small section of wall trapped one leg, and he had several deep cuts on his thigh that had soaked the lower half of his robes with his own blood.

He could hear the sound of whatever was being used to cause this destruction hissing through the air overhead, and he stiffened involuntarily, waiting for the final blow.

At the advanced age of seventy nine, he knew he'd lead a full and prosperous life, but this certainly wasn't the way he'd planned it to end. And who would Send him?

The reminder of the obvious results of this attack brought a sheen of tears to his eyes. The children housed in this compound were most likely all dead, along with many of his fellow Summoners.

He'd never even seen what manner of weapon had been used. It was just as the survivors of the stadium disaster had said...all he'd seen was a bright flash against the clouds, and then the terrible sounds of crumbling stone. He guessed it was one of the lesser towers on the outer wall that had collapsed around him. He remembered the chunks of stone and powder raining down on him as he ran for the gates.

Sambrian realized that he very much did not want to die. He struggled in vain against the stones trapping his leg, and gasped as pain shot up through his hip. He could feel the fear beginning to overcome him and he grew angry at his own weakness. Sambrian clenched his jaw and began to run through the meditation exercises that he'd learned as a young apprentice.

Slowly his mind began to calm and he opened his eyes again. He couldn't see much, pinned as he was, but he had plenty of air, so he couldn't be too badly buried.

Suddenly, through the sounds of screams and tumbling rock, he heard a sound that was very welcome, indeed.

"Yunalesca! Are you here?" someone cried. "If you can hear me, shout!"

A rescue party! Sambrian somehow managed to wriggle one arm loose, and grabbed at a chunk of concrete. He began banging it on the metal bars of the gate arched over him, and shouted, "I'm here! Help me!"

"Over here!" the man cried. Sambrian could have sobbed with relief when he felt a rush of cool air on his cheek, as some of the stones were finally moved away.

"Lord Sambrian!" shouted his rescuer. Hands grabbed at him, and he groaned as they shifted his injured leg.

"Wait! He's injured!"

Sambrian's eyes snapped open. "Lord Legolas! What are you doing out here! You could be killed! They are still out there!"

Legolas' bloodshot eyes crinkled up in amusement. "Same old Sambrian. Never a thank you!" He gently shifted a large chunk of the wall that had fallen on his mentor, and freed his leg. "You're going to be okay, I think. Too grumpy to die, anyway."

Legolas sobered and leaned down to him. "Was Yunalesca with you?" He wrapped an arm around Sambrian's waist, and carefully lifted him to his feet.

Sambrian broke out in a fine sweat when he tried to put his weight on the leg. "No. She wasn't." He gritted his teeth and began limping forward, leaning heavily on Legolas. "She never came to her lessons. I was on my way to the palace, to collect her. That young woman is worse than her father at following orders."

Legolas blinked and looked down at Sambrian as they maneuvered through the rubble. "She never came here? That can't be. Lord Zaon had strict orders to accompany her to the compound, and you know him...He'd never shirk his duty to Yunalesca."

Sambrian scowled. "Be that as it may. She never reported to her classes. Her tutor contacted me this morning, and I assured him she would be there by this evening."

Legolas fell silent, realizing that no one would be reporting to classes at the compound for a very long time. He gritted his teeth in impotent rage.

One of the guards that had accompanied him to the site, suddenly stopped and pointed at the overcast sky. "There! Look!"

Legolas squinted his gritty eyes at the sky. He blinked, and looked again. There! Movement...a small ship, darting under the clouds.

"My gods!" he breathed as another unnatural flash lit the clouds.

The primary building, that housed the staff and management section of the Summoner's complex shuddered and leaned at a crazy angle. The group stiffened and shouted as they realized what had happened.

With a shriek of tortured metal and stone, the building slowly collapsed onto the main walkway, leading to the central shopping district.

The stones under their feet shuddered in sympathy and the walkway cracked and sank. By some miracle, it didn't collapse completely. Large sections of it tumbled away into the lower city district, and Legolas imagined he could hear the screams of the poor souls living there.

Sambrian whispered a short prayer for the dead, and said firmly, "We have to get out of this area. Obviously, they are targeting the compound, and we must get ourselves to safety."

Legolas and the guards nodded in agreement and they gingerly made their way back to the palace.

It was beginning to rain in earnest by the time Legolas managed to get the group to the relative safety of the palace grounds. He'd delivered Sambrian into the waiting hands of the healers, and headed across the courtyard intending to report his discovery to his liege.

"Legolas!" a feminine voice cried out. "Thank the gods you're all right!"

Tisha sprinted across the grounds and flung herself into his arms. She stayed there a moment savoring the familiar feel of him, before pushing herself away and scowling up into his face. "What was going through that minuscule mind of yours, huh?" she shouted, hands planted firmly on her hips. "Wait, never mind," she continued, holding up one slim hand. "Nothing! As usual!" She punched him, hard, in the chest. "You could have been killed!"

Legolas stared at her. He rubbed his chest absently, and said, "I'm sorry. You're right. But I had to. Yunalesca is missing. And I have to see Yevon, right away. I know what's doing this!"

It was Tisha's turn to gape. "What do you mean? _What's_ doing this?"

Legolas turned and squinted into the rain. "There.." He pointed up to the clouds.

Tisha sighted up his extended arm, and gasped as the tiny ships were revealed amidst the lightning. Her face hardened and she snarled, "How _dare_ they!"

Legolas' eyes widened as he felt the hairs on his arms rise up involuntarily. He backed slowly away from his wife as the wind seemed to pick up and swirl around them. She stared into the skies and sparks seemed to crackle around her head in a nimbus of light. Her pale eyes glowed, and she raised her arms up, shrieking, "NO MORE!"

The lightning, which had been a tenuous pale thing, more of an afterthought in the gentle storm, suddenly cracked across the clouds. It joined and merged into a coruscation of eldritch fire. At her cry, it leapt down from the heavens and joined with Tisha, who was lit up like a newborn goddess. Her hair swirled around her head dancing against the light, and Legolas fell to one knee, shielding his eyes. Her eyes narrowed in fury and she pointed one slim hand at the offending ship. A bolt of retribution flew from her fingertips and enveloped the craft, instantly frying it's guidance systems. It spiraled down into the sea, a threat no longer.

Within moments, the entire squadron had been decimated.

Legolas stared at this new aspect of his wife, eyes wide. She turned to him and shuddered, seeming to settle herself, and the excess energies drained away into the earth. "There," she said dusting off her hands. "They won't bother _us_ again."

And fainted into her husband's arms.


	21. Chapter 21: Accountability

Lord Zaon entered the conference room and knelt before Yevon and his Lady. "I beg your forgiveness, my lord. I have failed in my duties to your daughter. At your word, I shall not rest until she is found."

"I did not call you here to chastise you, Lord Zaon. You are not at fault. In truth, you are one of the parties wronged by my daughter's actions, and that is why you are here." Yevon said. He placed his hand over Mira's and continued. "She has already been found, and is on her way here. I intend to have her explain her reasoning to us all." He gestured around the table to his wife and Lord Sambrian.

Zaon blinked and looked at Yevon. "She has been found?"

Yevon nodded, clenching his jaw. "She wisely returned to us when the sirens sounded. The perimeter guards reported her return a short while ago, and I asked them to...escort...her here." He smiled, thinly.

Zaon's eyes widened slightly. "I...see." His mouth twitched, and he ducked his head.

Yevon noticed and his smile widened a bit. "No worries, Lord Zaon. Please, have a seat."

Lord Zaon hesitantly made his way to the comfortable chair to Yevon's left, and settled himself in it. He glanced up at Yevon, who had leaned over to his wife and was murmuring into her ear.

The wide doors opened, and a Herald entered, looking a bit nervous. "The Lady Yunalesca requests some time to freshen herself, my lord."

Yevon raised one sandy brow, and his lips tightened. "I'm sure she does. However, we have waited quite long enough. Show her in. Now."

The Herald spun on a heel and quickly walked back out the doors. A moment later, both doors swung wide to admit Yevon's errant offspring.

She strode through the portal, head held high. Lord Zaon could see she was in a fine temper.

Her hair was soaking wet from the storm, and there was a fine spray of mud on one cheek, but these were minor compared to her state of dress.

She was wearing an outfit that nearly wasn't there. Her bosom was covered with a fine gold mesh fabric that 'frayed' into a series of tiny chains that dripped down to her hips, to join with the lower half. It crisscrossed at her hips for modesty's sake, and then separated into single chains, yet again. Each chain reached to her ankles, and ended in a tiny gemstone. The 'skirt' of chains shifted and flashed as she walked, revealing more than it hid.

Her green eyes shone angrily from within her mask of mascara and glitter. Her lips had been colored a ruby red, but it had been smudged, badly.

She strode to where her parents sat and stood before them, defiantly. She noticed her father's frown, and jutted her chin out, staring at him.

Yevon sat silent for a moment, taking in the sight of his daughter. Finally, he leaned back and rested his hands on his stomach.

"Nice." He sniffed delicately, and cleared his throat.

Her nostrils narrowed, and father and daughter stared at each other.

"I didn't realize that apprentice summoner's dress codes had changed so dramatically since I was young." Yevon drawled.

She scowled angrily and said, "Oh, don't play coy. I'm not a child, anymore! Tisa and I went to a concert...that's what you wanted to know, isn't it?" She crossed her arms and frowned.

Lord Sambrian blinked. He was suddenly struck by the similarities between the two. It was clear that the Lady Yunalesca got her looks from her mother, but her personality was pure Yevon. Both had a stubborn streak a mile long, and both would rather die than submit, once provoked.

Pride and determination was a fine trait in a leader, but Yunalesca was headed down a very treacherous slope. Yevon, at least, would admit his faults, and listened to advice.

_How did we manage to miss the warning signs_, Lord Sambrian wondered. _Lady Yunalesca has become quite self-absorbed._ _This cannot be allowed to continue!_

Lord Sambrian leaned forward and looked down at his student. "Your actions this day are quite shameful, Lady. You ignored your duty and ran off on a lark, causing great distress to your parents. Such is not the way of the Summoner."

She gaped at him. "I don't believe this...you're mad because I wasn't at the compound? I would have been dead now, if I had!"

Lady Mira's head snapped up at that. "How _dare_ you!" She stood up and walked to her daughter. "We thought you _were_ dead! Do you have any idea what that's like? _Do_ you?" Her eyes bored into Yunalesca's, and her daughter backed up a step. "Lord Sambrian is entirely correct, young lady! You'll never be allowed the title of Summoner, if you keep this up!"

Yunalesca clenched her jaw. "Has it ever occurred to you that maybe I don't _want_ to be a Summoner?"

There was dead silence for a moment as everyone digested that.

Yevon recovered first. "What do you mean, you don't want to be a Summoner?" He sounded completely baffled at this bit of news. "You've always been so proud of your skills, Yunalesca."

She dropped her eyes to the carpet and said softly, "Maybe I've changed my mind."

Yevon turned to Lord Zaon and said, accusingly, "Did you know about this?"

His eyes widened and he said only, "No, my lord. I did not."

Yunalesca snapped, "Oh, leave him out of this. I don't know why you dragged him into it in the first place. He didn't know what I was going to do, either."

Lord Sambrian looked at Zaon thoughtfully, and raised an eyebrow.

The door at the far end of the room opened suddenly, and a herald stepped through. "My lord Yevon! Your presence is requested by the Al Bhed researchers."

Yevon sighed deeply and nodded. When the herald had left he leveled a finger at Yunalesca. "This conversation is not finished, young lady. Your actions today were unbecoming of someone of your station, no matter the end result. We will speak on this later, and we _will_ come to an understanding. Now, go to your quarters and get out of that ridiculous outfit."

He glanced towards Lord Zaon who nodded and followed his charge out of the room.

Mira took a deep shaky breath and let it out slowly. "Gods...I am so glad she wasn't hurt."

Yevon rubbed the bridge of his nose and sighed again. "I don't have time for this, right now. I cannot worry about what our daughter may or may not be doing. We are under attack, and I have to concentrate on the well-being of everyone in Zanarkand!"

Sambrian cleared his throat and said, "Perhaps I may be able to help."

"How so?" Mira said, wearily.

The aged Summoner smiled, and said simply, "Give her into my keeping, my lady. If I may enlist Lord Zaon's aid, between the two of us, I believe we can keep her...focused."

Yevon looked up, and Sambrian was shocked at how wan and fatigued his erstwhile protege seemed. "You think you can keep up with her?" Yevon said. "You have my grateful permission, Lord Sambrian. And good luck to you both."


	22. Chapter 22: Schemes

The workrooms were a mess. There were bits of disassembled hardware and machinery on every open surface. The air was redolent with the scent of ozone and charred plastics. The Al Bhed technicians murmured gravely over machine parts and bits of schematics.

At this reminder of the terrible tragedy that had been visited upon them, Yevon could feel his rage beginning to overwhelm him again. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath to calm himself.

He made his way gingerly around the humps of recovered wreckage, snarls of wire from disassembled consoles, and other bits of detritus towards the largest knot of Al Bhed. "I was told you wished to speak with me, Lord Dukot?" he said, stiffly.

Lord Dukot looked up, startled, and nodded. "Forgive the summons, Yevon, but I'm not really in any condition to pay a visit to you..." he gestured apologetically at his filthy tunic, stained and burned during his investigation.

He wiped his hands on a rag that he pulled from a small tool belt slung around his hips and pushed a pair of goggles onto his forehead. "We think we may have found who did this..." He put his fingers to his mouth and let out a piercing whistle. Heads shot up from all over the room and Dukot gestured to one of the men working on what looked like the remains of a flight console.

The younger man nodded, scooped up a pile of cloth and jogged over to them. He stopped in front of them, glanced at Yevon, and sketched an awkward salute. Dukot rolled his eyes and held out a hand for the cloth.

Dukot led Yevon over to one of the tables and shoved everything to one side. He spread what turned out to be a badly charred uniform, onto the cleared surface. Wordlessly he pointed to a small symbol embroidered into the collar. "This symbol, here, is the Bevellian character for 'The One'. They use it primarily during their religious ceremonies." He frowned. "I don't know why they'd put it on a pilot's uniform..."

He looked at Yevon, whose jaw had gaped open in shock. "We got this off the body of the pilot. Your young mage did an impressive job of frying the internal circuits of the ship...How is she, by the way?"

Yevon swallowed, stunned by the news. "She's recovering. The healers say she badly over- extended herself, bringing down the ships that attacked us, but she should be back on her feet in a few days." He shook his head, and turned to Dukot. "Are you sure about this? You think it was _Bevelle_ that attacked us?"

Dukot looked at Yevon solemnly. "It certainly looks like it. The weapon that was on that ship is a seriously modified design of our pulsewand. I had one of my men look in to it, and that _was_ one of the items exchanged during a trading mission a few years back." He shrugged. "A pulsewand is a tool meant for exploration and research...To turn it into a tool of such destruction is madness." He tilted his head and spread his hands out, placatingly. "None of our people could have foreseen their duplicity, Lord Yevon, believe me in this."

_How could this be?_ Yevon thought, dazedly. _It's been years since we've come to an understanding!_ _Why would they suddenly attack us?_

He put one hand to his forehead, rubbing at the sudden headache and nodded to Dukot. "I thank you for your assistance, Lord Dukot."

Troubled, Dukot watched him make his way out of the room.

* * *

Yevon found Mira standing at the balcony windows in their private quarters, looking out over the sea. She hadn't heard him enter, as involved in her own thoughts as she was, and Yevon took the opportunity to just look at his wife.

Just looking at her made his heart swell and ache in happiness. She was his soul, just as he was hers, through all the years they'd been together. Just being in the same room with her, helped him remember what it was all for, in the end...

"I have news, Mira. Not good, either." he said, crossing to where she stood.

She started, and then turned to him, frowning. "What is it, love?"

"Dukot is almost certain that our attackers are Bevellian." he said, flatly. He watched her face carefully, tensely waiting for her response.

She blinked, and moistened her lips, considering his words. "That makes no sense," she said, finally. She frowned and began to pace.

Yevon closed his eyes and felt a load lift off his shoulders. He moved to one of the chairs scattered around the room and sat down.

"Our diplomats have been in regular contact with their government ever since we re-established contact with them initially, all those years ago. None of them have reported any strife or problems at all. We've respected their request for autonomy and privacy, and haven't pursued any trade agreements, or exchange programs..." She nibbled on her lip, thinking.

Yevon allowed himself a small smile as his wife entered what he privately thought of as 'research mode'. She'd worry at a problem tirelessly until she had the answers she wanted.

She stopped suddenly and turned to him. "Is he certain?"

"As certain as one can be, under these circumstances, I suppose." he sighed. "And I don't want to bring this before the council, just yet, because they'll all be clamoring for retribution, and I have no intention of accusing anyone, until I have more proof."

Mira tilted her head and smiled at him.

Yevon raised a brow and said, warily, "What?"

Her smile widened into a grin, and she ducked her head. "Nothing, love, just remembering why I love you."

The flabbergasted look on his face made her laugh, and she dropped onto a chair beside him.

"So...what shall we do, then?" she said, simply.

He chuckled, dryly, and leaned back onto the cushions. "_Is_ there any diplomatic way to ask a government if it was they who attacked you?"

Mira winced, suddenly understanding the problem. "Well...If it _was_ them, they'll know by now that their people are dead." She paused, thinking it over in her head. "Maybe we could send an envoy to return their dead?"

Yevon looked at her, horrified. Then his face cleared, as he turned it over in his mind. "Hmm. That has a wicked sort of sense, Mira. If it was them, we'll be letting them know that we can take care of ourselves, and we know it was they who did it. If it wasn't them, then they will believe we were honoring their belief system by returning the bodies of what we believed to be their dead...And maybe they might be able to aim us in the right direction." He looked at his wife, impressed. "You're brilliant!"

She grinned and kissed him on the nose. "I have to be, to keep up with you!"

* * *

The young page found Legolas sitting by his wife's bedside, holding a gentle vigil over his wife's slumbering form.

Legolas stared balefully at the 'pad the page pressed into his hands. He silently nodded to the young man, who slipped back out as quietly as he'd come.

He tapped the screen, and read the lines that appeared at his touch.

_Legolas,_ it read, _I need you to head a mission to Bevelle. Please meet me in my quarters in a half an hour. _

Legolas gritted his teeth and looked to his wife. Her face was still pale, but she'd been making marked improvements over the past few days.

He'd nearly died when she collapsed. She'd gone dead white, and would have fallen to the ground, had he not grabbed her. She'd been unconscious for two days after, and he'd been frantic that she wouldn't ever recover, no matter the healer's reassurances.

She'd finally come to, yesterday morning, and he'd nearly wept in relief.

The healers had admonished them both that she was to spend all of her time resting, and he'd taken them at their word. Tisha had been well amused by his attempts to keep her as quiet and 'rested' as possible.

He looked at the 'pad again, and then leaned over and gave his wife a gentle kiss. "I will be back, Tish. I promise."


	23. Chapter 23: Ideals

Legolas found himself checking his pack for the fourth time. The contents were fairly common survival items, but he wanted to be certain all was in order. He stood on the docks, watching as the crew ran to and fro, loading supplies. His team had been assembled on short notice, but they were the best at what they did, and he knew they would be ready for anything.

Yevon had chosen them all for their experience in both diplomacy and combat. _I need you, _he'd said. _We all need you to discover the truth of this situation._ _You will be shaping our future with your actions, and I trust that you know that Zanarkand's safety is in your hands._

And, yet, Legolas found himself torn between his duties to his wife, and his duties to his liege. Tisha was ever in his thoughts, even now, when he knew he should be concentrating on the mission. He put a hand to his forehead and gritted his teeth. _Enough. She's fine. Let it go!_

He straightened himself, and headed for the ship.

The captain gave him a brief nod as he strode up the walkway, and Legolas realized he wasn't the only one with a bad case of nerves.

Perversely enough, it made him feel a bit better.

"Is everyone on board, Captain?" he inquired, brow raised.

"Aye, sir. They're waiting on ye in the forward conference room." the captain replied, gesturing to a doorway across the deck.

Legolas smiled grimly, and headed for the arch.

His entrance was unnoticed in the din of twenty men all speaking at once. They were clustered in small groups around the table, earnestly discussing their ideas on the mission. Legolas could pick out only a few of the men, that he'd had reason to work with before, for one reason or another.

Over at one end of the table was a man named Tott, whose speciality was his survivalist skills. Nearby was Dugi, a young man who was death personified with a blade. Over by one of the windows was a man who'd taught Legolas many of his courtly skills, which would come in quite handy when dealing with the ever prickly Bevellians...

Legolas thought Yevon had picked well for this mission.

Clearing his throat, Legolas rapped on the table to get everyone's attention. The conversation died at once, and all eyes turned to him.

"We will be launching in just a few minutes, and I just wanted to go over the points of our mission once again, and make sure there are no questions or misunderstandings." Legolas looked around the room, meeting each of the men's gazes.

"We are traveling to the city of Bevelle to return five of their citizens who were killed in the latest attack." He paused to let the inevitable growls and muttering die back down, and continued. "We believe that Bevelle is unaware that we've discovered their duplicity, and hope to keep it that way, until we can determine the motivation and the potential threat. As we all know, the weapon used against us in these attacks was not a common one, and thus there may be more weapons that we won't be expecting."

Legolas paused, looking for signs of uncertainty, or over-eagerness.. They couldn't afford any men who would break under the pressures they were about to be under. He was pleased to see that, although all were angry at the attacks, none seemed unwilling to listen to reason.

"This mission is crucial to the continued safety of our families. To our way of life. We must stand united as never before.." he could feel his own outrage beginning to rise and he ruthlessly forced it back down.

"Centuries ago, Lord Zane led our people out of the wilderness, both figuratively and literally, to found a city in which all were equal. Men and women, mage and non-mage, from the highest to the lowest, we all work towards a goal of bettering ourselves and our world around us. We must not let the narrow minded ideals of a few end the peace and prosperity that we have achieved." he finished.

He leaned forward and once again, met each man's eyes, gauging their motivations and determination. He felt a bright flare of hope at the purposeful set to their jaws, and the clear thoughtfulness of their eyes.

The men began clapping and pounding on the table, and Legolas blinked, stunned at their approval. A surprised smile flitted across his lips and his men grinned and clapped him on the back. "We'll do ya proud, Lord Legolas! Count on it!" Tott crowed.

They spent the next few days going over what they knew, and Legolas began to realize how very little they did.

He started to see that Bevelle had been very careful in how they'd presented themselves to Zanarkand. Pouring over the data files that they'd compiled since the initial contact, he saw a pattern beginning to emerge. As Zanarkand extended the hand of friendship, Bevelle danced back, and played the shy maiden. In attempting to respect the privacy of their new ally, Zanarkand had failed to gain any useful information, at all.

Legolas was determined to rectify that situation. They could not afford the luxury of compromise anymore. Diplomacy be damned.

Yevon's secret weapon was two men who'd been in his service since they were boys. Their names were Dolan and Cleese, and they were the most talented thieves in their generation. Born twins, they were nearly impossible to tell apart, and had used this to their advantage many times.

Yevon had discovered them on the streets, when he was still an apprentice summoner. One or the other of them had attempted to pick Yevon's pockets, and somehow, Yevon had caught them at it.

Instead of turning them in to the nearest guard, Yevon brought them back to the compound and introduced them to the Warrior's guildmaster. The guildmaster, although skeptical at first, had realized that hiding underneath their thieving skills was the grace and balance of a natural swordsman. He took them on as apprentices, and they'd thrived.

When Yevon came to power, he took them on as his personal 'assistants'. When Yevon needed something done covertly, he looked to Dolan and Cleese. There were no two more loyal than these.

Their mission was simple, and separate from the other's. Infiltrate Bevelle, and find what there was to find.

Legolas had no doubts that they would ferret out whatever Bevelle was hiding, underneath their pious exterior.

Legolas blinked his gritty eyes, realizing at last how very late it was, and stretched, mightily. He wiped one hand over his face and looked out the window.

_I wonder how Tish is_, he mused.

They'd be docking at the same port they'd used all those years ago, forming an 'honor guard' for the bodies that they were returning, and traveling overland to the gates of Bevelle. He supposed he'd better get some sleep if he hoped to be at his best before the High Priest. He had a sneaking suspicion that he'd need all the wiles at his disposal in order to pull this off...

He palmed the reader off and pushed himself up from the table. He rolled his shoulders, working out the kinks, and headed for the doors.

Once outside he paused to take a look out over the silvery ocean, lit up by the full moon. He wiped a palm over his face again and thought,_ The calm before the storm..._

He shuddered at the morbid thought, and resolutely forced the thoughts away.


	24. Chapter 24: Consequences

Legolas sighed and looked out of the window at the sprawling city below. They'd arrived in Bevelle the previous day, and been greeted with what appeared to be genuine respect. The bodies of the men that had been found in the wreckage had been taken from them, and they'd been escorted to rooms to recover from their journey. Legolas and his crew had been cooling their heels ever since.

He'd requested an audience with Lord Denno, and been told that His Holiness was currently attending communion with The One. When Legolas asked how long 'His Holiness' might be doing such, he was greeted with a blank stare, and told, "Until he is finished."

Tott had been prowling the rooms, picking up various objects de art and examining them closely. Legolas wondered if Tott thought there might be an exam, afterwards. Dugi and Torel were having an earnest discussion about the similar skills needed in diplomacy and swordsmanship.

Legolas took a deep breath and let it out with a whoosh. He hated waiting. Of all the supplies he'd considered for such a delicate and potentially dangerous mission, a book hadn't come high on his list. Now he was regretting it.

Tott grinned at him, sympathetically.

"Patience, my young friend. Self control is your friend. I thought you learned meditation and self control at the guild, didn't you?"

Legolas frowned, annoyed with himself. "Yes. I should know better. Lord Sambrian would have my hide if he knew how rarely I exercise his teachings..."

He ran a hand through his russet curls and settled back onto his seat. He took a deep, cleansing breath, and centered himself. He released his fears, and his tensions into the atmosphere. Thoughts of Tish floated to the surface, and he frowned and released them, too.

His long unused talent stirred and he suddenly found himself sensing unsent souls...a great many of them, too. His eyes snapped open and he looked up, disturbed. He licked his lips uneasily.

Torel raised a brow and said, "What is it?"

"Unsent. Lots of them." Legolas said, softly.

Tott frowned and crossed over to them. "Fiends? Or just unsent?"

Legolas, normally comfortable with his decision to not hone his summoning skills, cursed himself for a fool. "I'm not sure."

Dugi looked as if he wished that he had a pair of his blades in his hands and glanced around the room as if the fiends might be hiding behind the potted fern in the corner.

"Well then. We must be on our guard." Tott said, finally.

Legolas' lips twitched. "As opposed to before?"

Tott smiled in acknowledgement. "True. But now we have more enemies to worry about than mere mortals, yes?"

Legolas suddenly thought of Dolan and Cleese, sneaking through the primary complex, looking for any information that Zanarkand might need, and sobered. He had no way of warning them of the potential threat, and they were in more danger than the rest of them. He sent a quick prayer to any gods that might be listening.

It was nearly twelve hours later when a guard finally entered the chambers and announced that His Holiness was ready to receive them.

Legolas unfolded his lean frame and stood up. He glanced around at his men, who were assembling themselves into a guard for him. He smiled, wryly, and said, "As His Holiness requests."

The guard nodded brusquely at the expected reply, and turned, leading them down the polished marble corridor.

The guards boots clacked sharply against the marble, echoing down the corridor's length. Legolas wondered at what impulses drove those from Bevelle to create such long unadorned corridors. He remembered his first trip here, and how discomfitted he'd been at the somber Bevellian society. He'd learned the hard way that his brand of humor was unappreciated by the priests of the One.

He suddenly realized that he'd not seen any of the multitudes of somber priests that had marked his last trip. His brow wrinkled and he glanced around, surreptitiously. The corridor was completely deserted except for the guards and his own party. Perhaps there had been some holiday or ceremony going on, when he was here last...He licked his lips, suddenly unnerved.

Legolas managed to crowd Dugi a bit and signaled him with his eyes. Dugi blinked at him, and nodded, somberly. He watched as the message was passed from man to man. They would all be prepared for whatever might be coming.

When they reached the massive double doors leading into the main chamber, the guard signaled for them to stop. By some unknown signal, the doors opened, and they were ushered inside. Legolas and his men found themselves blinking in the suddenly dim light. _Brilliant_, thought Legolas. _We may be headed into an ambush and we've allowed ourselves to be blinded._

"Welcome to Bevelle, my lords..." came a sonorous voice from the darkness. Legolas tensed. The unknown voice chuckled, amused.

"Zanarkand extends her heartfelt sorrow at the loss of your men, my lord." He heard Torel say.

His eyes adjusted enough to make out a figure standing about ten feet in front of him, holding a staff. He straightened himself, and looked at the figure, as confidently as he could project. "Forgive me, I am Lord Legolas, of Zanarkand. I do not believe we have met?"

"I am Lord Zheven. I am the chief advisor to His Holiness, Lord Denno." he replied, blandly.

"And when can we expect Lord Denno to grace us with his presence? I was told that he was ready to receive us..." Legolas smiled, calmly.

"And did you expect His Holiness to wait upon your arrival?" Zheven curled his lip, ever so slightly.

Legolas bowed his head, acknowledging the other's statement. He folded his hands in front of him, and prepared himself mentally for a long wait. It was clear that the Bevellians were no longer maintaining a pretense of friendship, and that he and his men would be lucky to be allowed to return to their ship, unmolested.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Tott and Dugi scanning the room and the guards, preparing themselves to fight their way out, if necessary. He sincerely hoped it would not come to that.

At last the overlarge double doors at the rear of the room groaned open and a white robed herald made his way to the podium. "His Holiness, Lord Denno!" he proclaimed to the room at large.

Two sets of guards preceded Lord Denno into the room, and Legolas wondered at Lord Denno's paranoia. Did he truly think that Legolas and his men were here to assassinate him in his own throne room?

Lord Denno settled himself and his long robes into the heavy wooden throne, and peered down at Legolas who maintained his dignified and bland demeanor. He refused to give Lord Denno any reason to attack. Two young pages scurried over to Lord Denno and set up a small footstool for him to rest his feet upon.

Legolas grinned, inwardly. It would appear that Lord Denno was attempting to goad them into a show of impatience. Luckily Legolas and his men, indeed, most of the citizens of Zanarkand, were trained in the mental arts from young ages, and were able to exercise a good degree of self control, if the situation warranted it.

He gazed at Lord Denno, and noted that the years had not been kind to him. His face had sagged most unbecomingly, and great pouches sat beneath his eyes, making him look a bit like a dried apple. He was robed from head to foot in great white swathes of cloth, which hid the general shape of his body, but Legolas guessed from the state of his face, that he more than likely had pouched and drooped a bit there, as well.

Lord Denno noticed the appraisal and scowled.

"So." he ground out. "You've returned."

Legolas bowed. "Yes, Lord Denno. The bodies of your men were found at the site of one of the latest attacks upon our city. It was thought that they should be returned to the city from which they came. We had hoped to express our sorrow at their discovery..."

"Please. Save the dramatics for those fools who lead you." Lord Denno snapped.

Legolas' eyes widened in dismay. _Definitely in over our heads_, he thought wildly.

"I do not understand, Lord Denno. Have we offended, in some way?" Legolas kept his eyes lowered in a show of respect that he did not feel.

The silence stretched on, until Legolas risked raising his eyes, to find Lord Denno smiling at him, bitterly. "We know why you are here, Legolas of Zanarkand."

Legolas kept his mouth shut and felt Tott and Dugi slowly moving in to cover his back. "I am sure I do not know what you mean, Lord Denno." He said, slowly.

Lord Denno gestured imperiously at a guard who stepped over to the doors that Denno had entered through. They groaned open once again, disgorging yet more guards. As they approached the throne, Legolas was horrified to see that they were dragging someone with them.

They dumped their burden at Denno's feet, and it stirred feebly. Lord Denno steepled his fingers in front of him, and smiled grimly. "Any ideas, yet?"

Legolas swallowed and looked at the prostrate form. He closed his eyes and sent a quick prayer to whatever gods might be watching over them, when he realized that it was Cleese. He heard Torel's quick intake of breath, and knew that he wasn't the only one who realized what was happening.

Legolas opted for the truth, as far as he was able. "We are here to determine why it appears that you and your people have attacked our city, Lord Denno. Nothing more." He raised his eyes and looked straight into Denno's, challenging him to explain.

Denno raised a hand, almost languidly, and the guard nearest him raised a device that had been strapped to his waist. He aimed it at Torel and pressed a button along it's length. There was a loud report, and Torel screamed and clutched at his leg, dropping to the floor. Legolas flung himself in front of the wounded Torel. Tott and Dugi moved forward, attempting to guard Legolas. The guard raised his weapon again, but was stopped by another gesture by Denno, who was grinning.

Legolas glared at Denno and his guards, as he attempted to staunch the sudden flow of blood from the wound in Torel's leg. He could feel the tension in the other two men, who were waiting for a word from him to move into action.

Denno grinned again, and said, "Amazing, isn't it?"

"It's a mechanical slingshot. Powered by technology, it flings a pellet much farther and faster than any slingshot powered by hand. Much more deadly, too, as you can see." Denno said, rising from his seat.

"What do you think you are doing?" Legolas demanded. Torel's leg was a mess. The shot had shattered the bone, and Legolas was afraid that if he didn't get the man to a healer, soon, he'd be permanently lame. He glanced at the other two men and saw the knowledge that they were outmaneuvered, here.

"The One will tolerate no impurity here." Denno said somberly. "Your man has told us of your plot to infiltrate our city. Most likely to spread your seeds of heresy, I'll wager." He wagged a finger at the small group. "I cannot allow that."

He nudged Cleese's limp form and stepped away, raising his head regally. He gestured again, and another guard moved forward.

Legolas shouted and reached futilely towards Cleese, as flames shot out of this new weapon, engulfing Cleese.

Tott and Dugi sprang at the two nearest guards and attempted to disarm them. Legolas grabbed Torel's arm and dragged him out of the main area, trying to shield him near the wall. Tott pinned one of the guards in a hold and flung him at the next, tumbling both to the floor in a sprawl of arms and legs. Dugi pulled two short knives from the sleeves of his voluminous shirt, and spun towards another guard. Legolas moved to intercept one of the guards armed with the new weapons. He spun and kicked it out of the guard's hand, sending it skidding across the floor. Dugi's knives flashed and a man dropped, mortally wounded. Lord Denno watched from his dais, unnervingly calm in the midst of such violence.

Legolas shouted to him, "Stop this! We can still talk about this like civilized men! Do not force us to defend ourselves!" He turned, narrowly avoiding a strike from one of the men's swords.

Denno raised a brow. "Civilized men? You are not even _human_...Soul Stealers and Fiends. I must cleanse you all."

Legolas grunted and threw the man grappling with him into a wall, stunning him. He turned, bracing to defend his men, and discovered Tott and Dugi, kneeling helplessly before the new weapons that Denno had armed his men with. He gritted his teeth, helplessly.

Denno smiled and stepped towards Legolas. "Wonderful things, these..._machina_. I praise the day that The One brought the Al Bhed to us."

Legolas blinked, confused.

"Oh, yes. The Al Bhed have been most helpful in helping us design them. They have supplied us with the parts, and aided us in modifying the designs." His smile widened. "They are quite effective in ridding us of Fiends."

Denno turned and strode towards his throne, again. "You are found to be impure, in the eyes of The One. Your soul is unclean, and must be cleansed. May you find peace and unity in the arms of The One."

The two pages ran out and pulled a large slab of the marble floor from it's housing, revealing a dark opening. Legolas swallowed, mightily. He looked despairingly at his people, knowing he'd failed them, terribly.

Two guards strode over and pulled Torel to his feet. He screamed weakly, as his shattered leg shifted. They dragged him towards the dark pit, and Legolas stepped towards them, desperately. He stopped only when two more guards primed their weapons and pointed them at him.

"Do not fear, Legolas. Your friend will soon be reunited with The One. Rejoice, for is that not the wish of all men?" Denno said, beatifically.

The guards pushed the hapless Torel into the hole, and Legolas closed his eyes, grieving. He could hear his screams echoing as he fell.

Legolas burned with impotent fury. "You bastard! Who are you to decide the fate of good men! You have attacked us, and killed innocents!" He struggled against the guards who held him.

Tott fought furiously and was subdued only by a blow that stunned him. He made no sound as he dropped into the darkness.

Dugi looked at Legolas as they led him to his fate. He nodded once, in salute. Tears burned in Legolas' eyes.

Finally Denno turned towards Legolas. "Do not fight your destiny, Legolas. There is no shame in bowing to The One's will."

Legolas spit at his feet.

The guards dragged him roughly forward and shoved him at the hole. Legolas dropped to his knees and tried desperately to regain his balance as he swayed towards the hole. He felt another hand at his back, and he plunged forward, falling into the darkness.

_Tish...Forgive me._


	25. Chapter 25: Reemergence

Deena palmed the heavy glass door open and stepped through. The cold air pushed her fine blond hair away from her face, and chilled her skin.

She hadn't been to work since the disaster at the stadium. Almost a month, now. The healers had assured her that she was fit and ready for work again, but she was still having occasional nightmares, and she didn't feel like the same person who'd left. It felt very odd to be walking through these doors again.

She slipped her lightweight coat off her shoulders and headed for the coat room. She looked at herself in the mirror near the door, and sighed. The face that peered out of the mirror at her seemed pale and drawn. She hadn't been able to rid herself of the feeling of helplessness since that night. She frowned and shook herself, mentally. _I have nothing to worry about,_ she admonished herself.

She put her shoulders back, strode back out into the main corridor, and headed for Brevin's offices. The comforting rhythm of her shoes on the linoleum began to ease her back into her professional self.

"Well, well, well...Look who's back." Tarvo said, with a smirk. "I didn't think you'd ever give up that cushy 'medical leave'." He leaned back in his seat and grinned at her. "I missed you."

Deena tensed and tried to ignore the anger that his words and attitude never failed to inspire. Despite herself, she felt her face tense up, and she faltered as she walked past.

Tarvo's grin widened. "What's the matter? No hello for me?"

Deena stopped and turned to him. "Tarvo. Apparently you've failed to notice that I don't like you. Period. I work with you, because I have to, not because I want to. If I thought we could get anyone to replace you, you wouldn't work here anymore. I would suggest that you not push me into rethinking that."

Tarvo's face darkened as he realized that she was serious.

As he leaned forward angrily to respond, a small form hurtled out from the common room. "DEENA!"

Deena caught the small form and scooped her up. "Deena! We missed you! Where have you been! Were you sick? Brevin said you were sick! Are you okay now?"

More children piled out, as the word spread, and soon Deena was surrounded by small gleeful faces. Tarvo glared at her, and slapped the evening's files down on the desk. Scowling, he snatched his coat off the chair, sketched an ironic bow, and left.

Deena rolled her eyes, and began herding the bouncing children back into the common room. She was pelted with questions from all sides, and she carefully told them a heavily edited story of the night of the tournament.

Her eyes drifted around the room, and she was dismayed to realize that Ky was not there. She hadn't had a chance to speak with him since that night, and she hoped that he hadn't fallen back into hiding in his room.

As soon as she was able, she slipped away from the group, and headed into the dormitory wing. She stopped in front of his door and hesitantly rapped on it.

"Come in."

Deena palmed the lock, and the door opened on darkness. She stepped through and waited for her eyes to adjust.

Ky was sitting near his window looking out over the city. At this time of night, it was a maze of multicolored lights and movement.

"Hey, Ky. I'm glad to see you're okay." She paused, awkwardly. "I was surprised to see you weren't in the common room with the rest..."

Ky shrugged a shoulder. "Too crowded."

Deena stepped over to him, and looked out. "I like the city lights at this time of night. I always have." She looked down at him, surreptitiously. He seemed uninterested in the city lights.

"Ky, what's wrong?" She hunkered down, so as to see his face in the dark.

She could see his throat work, as he struggled with his feelings.

"I don't want to be weak, anymore." he said, finally.

"What?" Deena's brows creased.

He looked up at her. "I'm tired of being weak. I'm tired of everyone having to look out for me, worry about me." He hunched up and looked away.

Deena blinked and considered his words.

"I want to be like that guy from the Abes." she heard him murmur.

"Who?" Deena thought back frantically. She'd never kept up with any of the teams.

"The one who helped me at the stadium. _He_ wasn't afraid." Ky said.

Deena's face softened as she realized what he was thinking about.

"Ky, I'm sure he was afraid. We all were..." she said, gently.

"But he didn't need anyone to help him..He was strong enough to take care of himself _and_ me." Ky frowned.

Deena reached out and tilted Ky's chin up so that he was looking into her eyes. "Ky...Listen to me, very carefully. You are not weak. What you went through that night, most people your age would not be able to handle. As I recall, it was you who helped me, that night. I wouldn't have made it out, if you hadn't lead me to that exit."

She smiled wryly. "And, as I recall, _you_ weren't the one who fainted when the rescuers arrived."

Ky ducked his head, smiling at last. "So, don't beat yourself up about it, will you?" Deena smiled at him. Ky looked back at her, considering her words gravely. At last, he nodded. Her smile widened, and she turned to the door.

"I'm glad you're back, Deena. I missed you."

* * *

Deena turned the conversation over in her mind, as she strode towards Brevin's offices. She should take her own advice. She wasn't responsible for what had happened, and she shouldn't feel ashamed for her perfectly justifiable fears. She took a deep breath and felt some of the tension that had been with her dissipate.

Entering the administrative wing, she turned down the corridor where Brevin kept his office. The only thing that distinguished it from any of the others was the small plaque that announced that this was the office of the head administrator to the Children's Hall.

Deena smiled. Brevin had never wanted the recognition for his contribution to Zanarkand's homeless children. He refused the luxurious suite of offices that most top administrators expected. He felt much the same now as he had when he started the Hall up, way back when. He didn't expect any help or recognition then, and he didn't want it, now.

She rapped firmly on the door and pushed it open.

Brevin was seated behind his desk, going over the reports from the day shift. The chair he sat in seemed far too small to hold his burly form. His shirt was, as always, rumpled and frayed. She knew that the shirt had probably been new just a short time ago, but clothes just seemed to age quickly around him. His shirt sleeves had been pushed impatiently back, and his hair was mussed, and a bit overlong. Deena shook her head, and smiled. Same old Brevin.

He'd looked up at her entrance, and smiled hugely. He pushed back from his desk, in an effort to meet her, and she waved and impatient hand at him. "Don't worry about it, Brevin. I don't want to interrupt!" She smiled, again, and grabbed a seat in front of his desk. " I just wanted to let you know I'm back on duty."

"How are you doing?" he asked, nodding at her, as if he hadn't been calling to check on her once a week.

"I'm fine, Brevin. I told you that, yesterday." She grinned. "I see I have a lot to catch up on," she said, gesturing to the stack of reports.

Brevin waved at the stack impatiently. "Ah. Don't worry about them..take your time."

"How's Ky been doing?" she said, raising a brow. "We just spoke and it seems he's feeling a bit insecure."

Brevin shrugged. "I think he'll snap out of it. He's a strong kid."

"I'm not sure he realizes that..." she said. "He was telling me how much he admired that kid from the Abes, the one who helped us out."

Brevin laughed.

"What?" she said, frowning.

"Kind of ironic, that's all." He said, grinning.

Deena tilted her head, curiously.

"That kid was one of ours for a short time." Brevin said.

Deena's eyes widened. "Here? Really? Why?"

Brevin leaned back, hands behind his head. "His father was a bit of a hot dog Blitzball player, too, a while back, but he started letting the attention get to his head."

He scratched his chin, meditatively. "Dunno whether it was the money or the attention, but he started drinking and let it get the better of him. There was some rumors of abuse, but nothing ever substantiated...Anyways, one day, he went out on his boat, alone and drunk, and apparently drowned. No one knows whether it was an accident or suicide. They never found his body."

Deena looked horrified. "He _drowned_?"

Brevin grinned. "Yeah. Ironic, isn't it? A Blitzball player, drowning?"

He shrugged one shoulder. "Anyway. His mom took sick shortly after, and died. He had no one, so they sent him here. He was here for two weeks before some uncle or something showed up and claimed him."

He grinned suddenly. "Looks like he turned out okay, though, hey? The resilience of youth. Ya gotta love it. Rumor has it he's even seeing that rogue summoner, what's her name."

Deena smiled, amused. "You read the gossip columns." she accused, leveling a finger at him.

Brevin held up his hands. "You got me. I admit it." He smiled at her, and she suddenly realized how much she'd missed this easy banter.

It struck her, suddenly, how much she'd missed _Brevin_.

Her world seemed to shift as her mind rearranged the pieces of her life, into an entirely different pattern.


	26. Chapter 26: Disclosure

Yevon was dismayed to find that he had let his attention wander, yet again. He blinked and brought his attention back to the matter at hand. His councillors were going over the latest published findings on the attacks, trying to determine what course of action to follow at this point.

It was hard, trying to act as if he were listening, when all he could think about was the fact that he'd sent his best friend on a fact finding mission without telling the council, and now, he seemed to have gone missing.

He knew that, chances were, Legolas was simply drawing it out, attempting to give Dolan and Cleese as much time as he could, but still, he worried.

He looked down the table where Tisha sat, next to Lord Benkat. She was diligently recording the meeting, and notating any bits that might be especially useful, but she was pale and drawn. Benkat had questioned her about it earlier, but she'd carefully repeated the story that she was still recovering from her exertions against the 'craft that had attacked them.

He was grateful for her willingness to go along with his plan. Although she'd nearly flown into a rage when he'd originally told her where her husband had gone, once she'd had a chance to consider it, she agreed that the council would most likely demand immediate retribution.

Yevon still had to fight the council's perceptions of him as 'too young to know better' on many decisions, and he had grown tired of the arguments and bickering. This was too important to spend time trying to convince the council to remain calm.

He blinked and realized that he was clenching his jaw, painfully, and made a conscious effort to relax.

At the far end of the heavy council table, he could see Lord Sambrian looking at him oddly, and he rearranged his expression into polite interest, doubling his efforts to pay attention. He felt like a young student, distracted by the fact that he hadn't finished his assigned work.

Over the chatter of his Ministers, he heard the heavy door behind him swing open against the thick carpet. A young messenger appeared beside him, bent down, and said, quietly, "Lord Yevon, there is a ship's captain awaiting your pleasure in the hall. He claims to have important news. He insists on speaking to you, personally."

Yevon frowned and nodded. "I'll be right there."

Standing up and addressing his Ministers, he said firmly, "Please. Continue without me." Yevon arrived in the hall a few moments later. The messenger bowed and said quietly, "I

took the liberty of seating him in meeting room three."

Yevon thanked him and headed down the hall to the proper room. The man inside was quite obviously uncomfortable in the elegant surroundings. He looked to be a simple fishing boat captain, and he was sunburned and windblown. He quickly took off his cap and ran a hand through his sun bleached locks as Yevon approached.

Uncertain of the proper protocols, the poor man bent at the waist in his best bow, and kept his head down. "M'lord. Thank you for seeing me."

Yevon's mouth twitched a bit at the formality, and he said, "The pleasure is mine, my good man. Please. Rise and seat yourself." Taking his own advice, Yevon moved to the table and sat down in one of the upholstered chairs.

He could see the man's adam's apple bob nervously as he ducked his head once, and moved to the chair.

"I'm very sorry to interrupt you like this, m'lord, but I have bad news. We was out following the fish out south of the bay, when we seen some wreckage and went to investigate. When we got close enough, we seen a survivor, floatin' there on part of the hull. We dragged him up and put him in the cabin...He was pretty beat up, let me tell you." The captain's thick brows went up in emphasis.

"Anyways, I got a healer on board who got him patched up a bit, and got him conscious, and he says he's from the S.S. Teppo, and he has to 'speak with Lord Yevon immediately.'"

Yevon leapt up from his chair, and shouted, "The Teppo! Where? Where is he?"

The captain lurched backwards at Yevon's sudden move and stammered, "On m'boat, m'lord! It's docked at twelve..."

* * *

A quarter hour later found him striding purposefully down dock twelve, headed for the only ship berthed there. At his approach, the two sailors keeping an eye out for him called out to their mates below, who enabled the gangway so that he could board.

One of Yevon's guards strode up the gangway and quickly assessed the potential threat posed by the frightened sailors, and finally deemed it safe for Yevon to board.

As he stepped onto the deck, the crew all bowed low. Impatiently, Yevon signaled that they should rise. "Where is the man that you rescued from the S.S. Teppo?

A skinny weatherbeaten man gestured mutely to a small cabin at the fore of the ship. Belatedly, he snatched off his cap and smiled gamely at Yevon. "That ways, Sir."

Nodding curtly, Yevon strode firmly through the doors, startling the healer within.

"What _do _you think you are doing?" She snapped.

Yevon frowned at her as she quickly blocked his path. "I am Lord Yevon, of Zanarkand."

She crossed her arms mulishly and said, "I don't care who you are. This man is under my care, and he needs to rest!"

"He is one of my citizens, and has asked for me. If he is in need of care, he will be cared for at the hospital here in Zanarkand. Move aside." One of his guards stepped forward, intending to move the woman aside by force, if necessary.

Sensing the inevitable, the small woman glared at him and moved out of the way. "I won't have you upsetting him. I just got some of those wounds closed. From the looks of it, that ship must have blown up, for some of those injuries..." She looked at him warily. "Do you really have to speak with him right this minute?"

Yevon reigned in his impatience, and looked down at her. "Yes."

She struggled with it for a moment, and then stepped away from the door. "Please. For his sake, keep it short. He has been badly injured, and can't take much excitement."

Yevon nodded, acknowledging her warning and moved through the door into the dim interior of the room. He quickly crossed to the bed where the survivor was resting.

He closed his eyes in pain when he realized that the man in the bed wasn't Legolas. The still form had been badly wounded, from the looks of it. His torso was wrapped in gauze, and his face was swollen and burned. Small cuts and bruises trailed down his arms to the bandaged hands that rested on the covers.

Yevon swallowed and knelt down beside him. "I'm here..." he said, softly.

Dolan's bloodshot eyes snapped open and he looked around wildly.

"It's me, Yevon! It's okay, you're safe, now. You're home." Yevon said, hastily.

Dolan blinked and looked up at Yevon, uncomprehending, for a moment. Recognition trickled in, and he relaxed back onto the bed. His eyes closed briefly.

"They knew we were coming." Dolan whispered through his cracked lips.

Yevon's mouth opened and closed, soundlessly. "What?"

"They knew we were coming. We never had a chance, Yevon." Dolan swallowed, harshly. "Cleese and I made it in, without any problems. We snuck past the guards, borrowed some robes and blended in with a group of priests. We made it down to the inner chambers of the primary complex, where they house some of the officials..."

Dolan's jaw worked as he struggled with the memory. "We chose a likely office and managed to pick the lock. We slipped inside...They were there. Waiting."

"Who?" Yevon said.

"Lord Denno, and his guards." Dolan said, softly.

Yevon blinked, stunned.

"Cleese and I don't mind a challenge, you know. We're trained like the rest of them, Yevon, but anyone from the street knows, when you come up against a mage, you run like hell." Denno said.

Yevon frowned. "Dolan, they don't _have_ mages in Bevelle. That, I know for sure."

Devon smiled, wryly. "They have some sort of... mage weapons. I don't know what they were, but one of them turned it on and it spat fire just as well as a mage. Cleese and I didn't stick around to see what else they had. We ran."

He turned his face away, then. "They cornered us before we could escape."

"They took us to a room and started questioning us. When we refused to answer, Denno started...torturing Cleese, to get me to talk." Dolan's jaw worked for a moment before he continued. "I couldn't tell him what he wanted to know. He kept asking us about our plans to take Bevelle...I told him we'd never planned any such thing. He didn't believe me, and kept hurting Cleese..." Tears started to run down Dolan's cheeks.

Yevon could feel the rage building up. He put a hand on Dolan's unbandaged arm and said firmly, "It's not your fault, Dolan."

"He's not sane, Yevon. I could see it in his eyes." Dolan looked at Yevon, searching for answers. "I think he would have killed us then, but he didn't, for some reason."

"I managed to get the keys from one of the guards, without him noticing, and when they finally left us, used them to get us both free." He said, lost in the memory. "We split up, figuring it would slow them down, when they discovered we were gone. We agreed to meet back at the ship, but...Cleese never showed up."

"I came aboard, and went to our cabin to wait. It wasn't long after that Denno's men stormed the ship and killed everyone." Dolan said, dully.

Yevon's eyes went wide in horror.

"I heard them, before they got to the cabins and I hid myself. The crew fought, but the weapons they used...No one could get close enough to attack them." Dolan continued.

_And I insisted that they bring no mages_, Yevon remembered, horrified.

"They set fire to her hull, and sent it out to sea, to burn...I had to wait until it was far enough out to sea for me to jump without them knowing I lived. I have no doubts that they would have chased me and killed me, too, had I not. The ship exploded only moments after I leapt into the sea..."

Dolan trailed off, exhausted. Yevon swallowed thickly, and said, "I can only imagine your pain, Dolan. There are no words to express my sorrow at what you have gone through to aid Zanarkand. But know that you and your brother will be remembered as heroes." Yevon bowed his head and continued, "The healer says you need your rest. I will arrange to have you moved to the hospital, in a short while."

Dolan looked up with hollow eyes at his liege, and nodded.

Yevon turned and left the chamber.

He wiped a hand across his face, and thought, _the council must be told._


	27. Chapter 27: Revelations

_Don't go..._

_Where are you..._

_You mustn't ...This isn't right..._

_I don't want to be here...well, you must, and that's all there is to it..._

_It shouldn't be this way...I've failed...You'll have to try harder then...I can't..._

_Please...Where is everyone else...I'm all alone...Stop whining about it and just do what you must!_

Legolas' eyes snapped open and the voices moved away a bit.

Perched next to him was a scruffy ragged woman whose moon-filled eyes bore into his own.

Startled, he struggled to pull himself into a sitting position and screamed, as the sleeping pain awoke and burned through his shoulder and head.

"I wouldn't do that, if I were you." she murmured, placing one thin hand on his chest. "You have a dislocated shoulder. You probably tore the muscles, too." The figure peered at him and licked her dry lips. "And...you might fall off."

Legolas froze at her words and rolled his eyes to the side.

He was scant inches from a sheer drop straight down into darkness. He clenched his jaw as a wave of vertigo washed over him abruptly. He lay back on his ledge with his eyes closed and gritted out, "Who are you?"

The pale woman looked down at him, startled. "Lisette. I am...Lisette."she cocked her head and started to rock, gently.

"Charmed, I'm sure. But, uh...How do we get off this ledge, and get somewhere safer?" Legolas said, stiffly.

"The water drains into a secondary waterway during the spring floods...The opening is right over there." She cocked a thumb vaguely behind her, and continued looking at him.

Legolas slowly opened his eyes again, and said, warily, "I know how _I_ got here...but what are _you_ doing here? Did they toss you down that damned hole, too?"

She blinked at him, as if she'd forgotten he was there. Her face wrinkled in thought, and she said, finally, "No..I came down here for you. You mustn't die."

"Uh...Thank you." Legolas said, uncertainly. He looked at her thin frame, and ragged clothes and wondered how long she'd been waiting for him.

Gritting his teeth, he managed to sit up and lean against the wall. "Can you help me up without us both going over the edge?"

Wordlessly, she stood up and offered her arm to him. Gingerly, he grabbed her hand, and began shifting his weight. She was stronger than she looked, and in short order, he was standing, looking down into the darkness below him.

"What's at the bottom?"He murmured, thinking of his lost companions.

"The Via Purifico." She said, simply.

"The what?" Legolas said, frowning.

"The Via Purifico. Where the souls of the unclean are purified through death." she said, matter-of-factly, moving towards the opening she'd indicated earlier.

"The unclean...?" he muttered to himself. _Gods. After all this time, they're still engaging in ritual murder in the name of their One?_ _This isn't just war...They're zealots, bent on destroying anything that doesn't conform to their ideals!_

"Mm. Lord Denno teaches us that when we have achieved proper purity, the unclean will cease to plague us." Lisette said, distractedly.

She tilted her head and stared off into space, as if listening to something far away.

Legolas peered in the direction she seemed to be looking at, trying to guess what she was looking at, but he saw nothing. "Listen, Lisette? Uh..I have to get back to Zanarkand, as fast as possible. Can you help me get out of Bevelle?"

"If it is not stopped, everyone will die, forever and ever..." she crooned, rocking slightly.

_She's been down here waaay too long_, Legolas thought, disturbed by the vacant look in her eyes. "Lisette? Lisette, can you hear me?"

She blinked her pale eyes and looked at him again. "Yes. I will take you to Zanarkand" She frowned slightly. "Lord Yevon will be very angry about this..."

"I should imagine he will be." Legolas said, dryly.

* * *

With his injured arm securely strapped to his side, Legolas was able to follow Lisette to the wide opening gaping in one moss covered wall.

Dry for now, it was clear that at times this entire chamber was filled with water. He shuddered to think how many had drowned in its depths over the years. The bottom must be littered with bones, by now.

His jaw worked briefly, as the memories of his fallen comrades rose unbidden in his mind.

Lisette was a pale shape in the darkness, darting down the tunnel, just ahead of him. A few times she ducked down a side chamber out of his view, and Legolas' heart lurched at the thought of being left here, wandering and lost in the darkness...

"Here." She indicated a small access panel, set high up in the wall, far above the apparent water level.

Legolas' eyes widened in dismay at the thought of trying to scale the slime-covered wall with his injured arm. Lisette seemed to catch his thought, and a small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.

"Do not fear, Legolas." She indicated he should wait, and she padded down the tunnel to a small alcove. Grunting slightly, she managed to yank an abandoned metal storage crate over to where Legolas stood.

"Up." She said, pointing at the access panel.

She scrambled up onto the crate and turned to give him a hand up. Atop the crate, the panel was within easy reach, and Legolas smiled at her resourcefulness. She pulled a small tool out of a pouch at her waist, and pried the panel open. Holding up one slim hand she peered cautiously into the corridor, beyond. Putting a cautionary finger to her lips and gesturing to him to follow, she wriggled through.

The corridor beyond was grey and sterile, made of utilitarian metal panels. Recessed lighting kept the shadows at bay, but added to the cold, antiseptic feel of the place.

"Where are we now?" Legolas whispered.

"The underground." She responded, peering down the hallway.

Legolas rolled his eyes at her back. "And that is...?"

"Lord Denno began building this many years ago...Shortly after his visit to Zanarkand. The underground is the city beneath the city." She blinked a few times, and tilted her head again.

"We're _beneath_ Bevelle?" Legolas exclaimed, goggling at her.

She began striding down the corridor and Legolas hurried to keep up with her. "What do you mean? How did he build this?"

Lisette turned her head to him, and smiled. "Bevelle was founded in this spot because of the springs that ran through the rocks here. Long ago, it was said that the first founders would have died but for the spring that the One provided. The writings say that as long as the springs flow, will Bevelle prosper."

She stopped and frowned, consulting some inner map, and then pointed to an intersection. "This one."

Legolas jogged after her. _For such a skinny, malnourished thing, she sure can move_, he thought tiredly. "What do the springs have to do with this 'underground city'?"

She raised a brow as if it should be self-evident. "The spring that flowed at the surface was but a part of a vast underground river. These corridors were once natural caves. Lord Denno simply expanded them a bit, and reinforced them, to protect from cave-ins or other disasters."

She stopped, suddenly, and Legolas was hard pressed not to crash into her. "What is it?" he said, peering into the gloom.

"It shouldn't be dark, here." she said, intently.

Legolas could feel the hairs at the nape of his neck stand up. His hand curled up, and he wished desperately for his sword.

She spun and pushed at his chest. "Go! That way! Fiends!" she shouted.

He turned and ran for the hallway that they'd just left. She grabbed his arm and yanked him off to the right. They pelted down the corridor and dodged down yet another crossway. She pushed him against the wall and held her hand over his mouth.

Straining his ears, and holding himself very still, Legolas waited for the creatures to find them. Biting his lip, he risked dropping his shields a bit, to see if he could sense them.

..._No don't I don't want to please please I don't want to die where am I where's my mommy I'm lost I'm lost please I haven't done anything I don't want I can't it hurts please don't why are you I don't want to be here why aren't you dead I want to go home where are they why didtheyIhaven'tdoneanythingishouldn''_...

Legolas dropped to his knees clutching his head and crying out. Lisette knelt next to him and put her arm on his shoulder. "They aren't real..."

Gritting his teeth and forcing himself to separate from the lost souls screaming at him, he glared at her. "Yes, they _are_, dammit! What have you people been _doing_? No wonder you have fiends! There are hundreds of unsent, down here! Why didn't you warn me?"

She blinked solemnly and looked at him. "The unclean souls resist the cleansing. It takes a while for them to accept their fate."

He stared at her. "You're serious?" His face tightened as he realized what was happening here in Bevelle.

"They won't _leave_ until they are _sent_. That is the only way to rid yourself of these tormented souls. Only Summoners can send them. And you people seem to think that we Summoners are some sort of vile loathsome thing."

He got back to his feet, stiffly. "I'd try to send them myself, but that's far too many for me." He yanked his shirt back into place and stared at her, brows lowered.

She looked at him, considering his words, and then wordlessly turned and headed off again. Legolas muttered to himself and followed her, hoping privately that they wouldn't end up joining those tormented souls in death.


	28. Chapter 28: Viewpoints

Yevon sat in the plush chair of the High Summoner of Zanarkand and faced the High Council.

The last time he'd faced off with them, one-on-one, was when he'd been named the Successor to the Throne. They were no less grim now than they had been all those years ago.

Yevon had decided that the situation was serious enough to warrant limiting the information to the High Councillors.

Zanarkand was blessed with an impressive amount of people willing and able to serve the city in a variety of ways...She had a fine ministry, populated with ministers of finance, relations, labor, trade, and numerous others.

However, the High Council represented the original council, formed at the city's inception. It consisted of only a few, and only the best, at that.

Lord Benkat represented the Mages, Lord Sambrian represented the Summoners, Lord Tiern represented the Warriors, Lady Lotti represented the Healers, Lord Semman represented the Scholars, and down at the very end of the table, looking more than a little uncomfortable, sat Deena, representing the Citizens of Zanarkand.

Yevon allowed himself a moment of idle curiosity, wondering how Deena would respond to a High Council meeting. When he'd formed the office that she filled, he'd hoped that some new blood on the High Council might give them a fresh perspective. So far, she'd held her own, admirably, but this...this was their arena, so to speak.

Yevon waited until he could be sure of his own control and looked down the length of the table, meeting all of their eyes. _Might as well get it over with..._he thought, tiredly, heaving a ragged breath.

"I have reason to believe that we are under attack by the forces of Bevelle. The ship I sent to meet with Lord Denno was attacked and all hands, save one, murdered. The ship was set afire, and left to burn."

He held up a hand, and waited for the gasps and shouts of outrage to die down. "I have yet to establish the reasoning behind the attack, but at the moment it would seem that Bevelle has decided to take hostile actions against Zanarkand. I seek your advice and knowledge on this matter, so that it may be resolved as peacefully as may be."

He studied the faces arrayed before him, dispassionately. Their expressions ranged from anger, to incredulity, to frozen blankness.

Benkat, as usual, was first to break the silence.

"Are you _mad_?" He said, straining for a calm tone of voice. "Bevelle wants only one thing...The same thing they wanted two hundred years ago. Our complete destruction!" His jaw worked a bit, as he strove to calm himself. "We must destroy them, first."

Frowning fiercely, Tiern took over from Benkat. "Why were we not notified of a mission to meet with Lord Denno?" He looked around at his fellow Councillors and raised a brow. "I believe that _is_ the proper procedure, is it not? How else may we decide the future of Zanarkand, if we do not know what actions our esteemed ruler has already taken?" Semman nodded at him in agreement.

Yevon gathered his dignity around him and said, calmly, "I decided that reconnaissance was the best answer, for the situation at hand."

Lotti leaned back in her chair, rubbing the bridge of her nose.

Yevon was most disturbed to see Sambrian staring at him from where he sat. His blue eyes bore into Yevon's as if Sambrian were picturing the shape of his soul. Sambrian rarely lost his temper, but it looked as if he was going to make an exception in this case.

Benkat beat him to it.

"Who do you think you _are_?" He shouted, standing up and slamming a fist on the table.

Yevon's eyes narrowed and he said, "Lord Benkat. Do _not_ forget your place! I will _not_ tolerate..."

"_No_! No more!" Benkat snarled, shaking off Lotti's hand, as she tried to pull him back into his seat.

"I have bent to your will more times than I can count, honoring the fact that you _are_ ruler of this city. But I _will_ not allow you to continue down this path! And if it means my removal from this Council, so be it. But this will be said!" he growled.

"We have never seen eye to eye on most of the issues that have come before us. I accept that, because it is not necessary for us to agree in order to perform our respective duties. But, in this, you are_ wrong_." He slapped a meaty hand down on the table before him in emphasis. "In order to avoid a confrontation between us, you have left the Mages out of _every_ decision regarding Bevelle, since the beginning. Now, it would seem, you seek to leave the _entire_ Council out of 'your' plans. In so doing, you have single-handedly put this city in unimaginable danger! Ruler of Zanarkand, you may be, but you are _not _a god!" He glared at Yevon, daring him to argue.

Yevon sat back in his seat, stunned.

Had he really been doing that? He looked to the other Councillors and was dismayed to see them studiously avoiding his eyes.

"I..." he swallowed thickly, and took a deep breath. "Perhaps you are right, Lord Benkat. If so, I have wronged you and the Council and this city, grievously." He bowed his head in remorse, and continued, "I...cannot change the past, but perhaps, with your continued guidance, I may improve the future."

Sambrian said, with a hint of coolness, "I should hope that this will not occur again, now that you realize your folly."

Yevon felt a bright spark of anger at Sambrian's tone. He forced it back down, accepting that perhaps the rebuke was appropriate.

He looked to Lord Sambrian and said as humbly as he could, " I bow to your judgement, then, as mine seems to be clouded."

Sambrian nodded, graciously accepting the apology.

* * *

Several hours later, Yevon was already regretting his statement. Once again, the Council was unable to come to an agreement.

The only thing that everyone agreed upon was that the city must be protected. The problem was, how to go about it.

Tiern and Benkat were in complete agreement that they must take the fight to Bevelle. Lotti and Sambrian argued that this would simply put the city's defenders out range to defend the city, should Bevelle slip past them. Semman felt that the mage weapons needed to be studied in order to come up with a proper defense against them. Benkat scoffed and said that any mage could disable such a weapon with ease. Tiern frowned and began to argue with Benkat saying that his Warriors were not so gifted and would be vulnerable to such things.

Yevon watched the Council argue and worry at the subject and thought to himself,_ I am watching the death of our way of life. Zanarkand will never be the same. _He wiped a hand over his face, feeling old for the first time. The confrontation with Benkat had left him doubting his own judgement, and left him feeling vulnerable.

"Councillors, may I have your attention?" He said, finally. They looked at him warily, and he continued. "I do not argue with your judgement that Bevelle is a graver danger than I had imagined. However, I do feel that sending our forces to them is unwise."

He looked at Benkat and Tiern in a silent apology. "I will ask you to focus your thoughts on keeping Bevelle from harming us, here in Zanarkand. Our city will not suffer again at the hands of Bevelle."

He leaned forward and said, "It is clear that our Mages are able to protect against their aircraft, and Lord Benkat seems certain that they will be able to defend against their mage weapons. Perhaps, for now, we will just have to make certain that our defenders are either mage trained, or are accompanied by those who are."

"We will set up a defense perimeter..." he said, when a small voice spoke up from the end of the table.

"My lord Yevon..." Deena said, swallowing, nervously. "Forgive my interruption, but I have an idea."

Yevon stopped, and nodded at her to continue.

"The stadium, that night..." She said, looking around at the rest. "We watched part of the game, and the Sphere pool...It was formed by the shield technology?"

"And...?" Tiern said, impatiently.

Deena looked at Yevon for support. "It is, according to the specs I've seen, supposed to be impervious to physical interruption." She looked around at the blank faces, frowning.

"If we could make one large enough to encompass the city...?" She trailed off, uncertainly.

"What?" Lotti said, exasperated. "Do you have any idea how expensive that would have to be?"

"Well, no, actually, it wouldn't." Deena said, on more solid ground. "It's formed by a series of field generators, and it doesn't take many to form a shield. There were only six at the stadium."

"Oh, yes. Let's trap our people inside the city like caged rats!" Benkat said, rolling his eyes.

Deena frowned at him. "No...we would be free to come and go, as long as we allowed for portals. The Blitzers use them to enter the pool. Think how much easier it would be to only need to guard the generators and any portals we put in?"

Benkat raised a brow, thinking on it.

Yevon smiled.

"Hmm." He said, picturing it. "It is an idea that I would never have thought of, and I believe it has potential. It would indeed make defending the city much easier, and give us a bit of time to consider where to go from there."

He looked to Semman, and said, "I'd like you to look into the feasibility of such an undertaking, and bring your findings to this Council in one week. Agreed?"

Semman nodded, thoughtfully.

Yevon looked to Deena, who didn't seem certain how her idea had been received. "Thank you, Deena. Your idea may be the salvation of the city."

Deena's eyes lit up and she beamed at him.

"If we are all agreed?" Yevon said, formally.

"Then this meeting of the Council is ended."


	29. Chapter 29: Rumors

Brevin rested his forehead against one meaty fist and leaned against the thick glass window in his office, gazing over the city below him.

These past few months had been terrible for everyone. Fear and mistrust had settled over the city like some miasma that nothing could quite clear. Citizens were not quite as lively and open as they'd once been, preferring instead, to stay home and avoid strangers.

The most obvious reminder of Zanarkand's troubles were the giant field generator towers that were going up in intervals scattered throughout the city. Built quickly, they lacked the finesse and style of the usual new constructions. They thrust into the sky in mute accusation, and everyone he knew tried to ignore them, as best they could.

Brevin turned from the window and sighed. The Children's Hall was at capacity at the moment, what with the disaster that had fallen, and Brevin was hard pressed to keep up with the paperwork and legalities. It was his job to make sure that each child was indeed without any living family, before having them officially declared wards of the city.

His desk, never the most organized at the best of times had turned into a paper nightmare. Brevin picked up a sheaf of papers and looked at them with little interest. He'd not been home in almost three days, and he was tired.

The vidcasters had been chirruping about how the citizens could help the city by maintaining their regular schedules, and remaining calm. Brevin snorted. Everyone he knew was feeling a bit wary and frustrated. The government was scrambling, and everyone knew it. Those weapons that had been used were terrifying...like the hand of some vengeful god, come to call. Some said that that was exactly what had happened, that Bevelle's god had decided that they were to be wiped off the planet.

_Psht._ He wiped his hand across his worn face and yawned, tossing the papers back onto his desk. Some people would believe anything, if it was dramatic enough. He just hoped that this new energy field would perform as they hoped. If it could keep those bastards on the outside, he was fine with it.

_I need some air_, he thought.

He snagged his coat from the back of his chair and headed for the lift. He shrugged in to the coat, and ran his hand half-heartedly through his hair, in a vain attempt to tame it.

A short time later found him walking down the primary walkway that led to the District; the business sector where most of the office towers and governmental centers were housed.

He stalked down the walkway, fists jammed in his coat pockets in a manner guaranteeing the coat would be permanently stretched out of shape.

Passing harried business men and women, busily going about whatever they did, he wondered how they could just ignore the reality around them.

Zanarkand was at a crossroads. Couldn't they _see_ that? Life would forever be, 'before the attacks' and 'after the attacks.'

Now was the time that would forever shape the future. Yet, how it would be shaped was up to them. And it seemed that no one wanted to admit that. Everyone was content, thinking that if they ignored it, it would all just fade away, like some sort of bad dream.

Brevin snorted.

His feet carried him out of the District and down into the lower levels of the city, where the less fortunate common citizens worked and lived. He'd grown up, here, among the working class. Those who lived in the towers sometimes forgot about them. Out of sight, out of mind.

At least Deena was working on changing that. Brevin smiled to himself. Deena was amazing. She worked tirelessly for those who needed a champion. She put in long hours at the Hall, working with the children, and then went home and fought paper battles with the government to better the status of the common citizen.

_First Minister of the Citizens. She should be proud of herself_, he thought, mouth quirking.

It wasn't until he heard the faint sounds of some raucous dance music that his feet paused. He looked up and was a bit surprised to find himself in the lower entertainment sector. Here were the bars and dance halls, interspersed among vidshops, and gambling sites. The dress code was a bit more...unique...here, and Brevin, dressed as he was, stood out like a sore thumb.

He plucked at his shirt, thinking about it, and finally waved a hand at his own foolishness. So what if they stared at him. People had been staring at him for years. With his bulk, and blunt manner, people stared at him wherever he went. He chuckled, dryly, and went in to the bar.

The cool air settled over him like a cloak, and he sighed, appreciatively. He strolled up to the bar, and settled on a likely stool. The bartender raised a brow and came over, setting down the glass he'd been wiping.

"What would do ya?" he said, smiling a little.

"Eh. Still working. I'll take a fruit water." Brevin grinned and rolled his eyes, acknowledging the foolishness of getting a fruit water at a bar, but there it was. The bartender grinned back at him, shaking his head, and turned to get what he'd ordered.

Brevin turned and surveyed the crowd. Mostly working stiffs, a few 'working women', and the odd visitor, enjoying the sights.

Visitors and outlanders were rare, lately. Word had spread that Bevelle had attacked Zanarkand, and the tourist trade had dropped off appreciably. No one wanted to risk being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Brevin could understand the feeling.

The bartender returned with his drink, into which he'd put a brightly colored umbrella and a cherry. Brevin looked at his drink, and then at the bartender who shrugged and grinned at him, before turning back to his glassware. Brevin plucked the offending umbrella out and dropped it on the bar, before sipping at his drink.

"I tell ya true, it's gonna be useless to trade here, soon enough!" a rough voice proclaimed loudly, from behind him. Brevin turned, wondering if the speaker was addressing him.

In the corner, at a table populated with a group of sailors, was a grizzled old man who was obviously several drinks into the night. He leaned forward and addressed his companions, gravely. "They're spreading the word, ya know. 'No one is to help Zanarkand,' sez they. They got those weapons, and they ain't afraid ta use 'em, ya know?" His fellows, nodded, obviously familiar with this diatribe.

Brevin frowned and listened, carefully.

"Soon enough, they'll stop all the ships from coming to port, and then what? We be the on'y ones coming in..they'll kill us for sure!" the old man muttered, darkly. His companions murmured and muttered in agreement.

_A blockade? Or an embargo?_ Brevin wondered. Zanarkand wasn't entirely dependant on imports, of course, but the idea behind it was insidious. It would isolate Zanarkand even more than she already was. He wondered if the airship captains had been warned off, too. No wonder the tourist trade had dropped...

Brevin drained his glass in one long swallow, and set his money on the bar, waving to the bartender as he got up.

He supposed that the government probably knew about it, but it couldn't hurt to mention it to Deena, just in case.

_Damn,_ he thought to himself. _It never ends, does it?_


	30. Chapter 30: Gifts

Yevon sat in his suite, contemplating the sea.

The stormy weather had stirred small waves that slapped up against the cliffs far below. Seagulls wheeled and cried above them, watching for unwary fish, while the fishing boats hooted greetings to one another as they entered the harbor.

He'd been sitting like that for nearly three hours now. He knew he had numerous duties to attend to, but somehow, they seemed far away and unimportant.

His eyes burned, and his jaw clenched, occasionally, as he tried to blot out his grief. As long as he concentrated on the sea, it wasn't so bad...

The shadows lengthened along the wall, and Yevon found himself staring into the dusk.

He heard the door swing open behind him, but the sound meant nothing. The only thing that mattered was holding the shell around his emotions perfectly stable.

Mira came up beside him and looked out into the darkness. Her slim form stood steady beside his, as she lent him her strength. She knew better than to try and touch him, as he couldn't stand any contact, yet. Her presence beside him was all she could offer, and hope it was enough.

Sambrian stood as Mira closed the door behind her. Her eyes haunted by her own pain, she looked at him and shook her head, mutely.

His shoulders slumped in dismay. Yevon _had_ to pull himself out of his grief, and lead the city! And yet, as a summoner, Sambrian knew how very powerful sorrow could be. How one dealt with it was a true test of a man's character. Yevon was a man of great passion...both his greatest asset, and his deepest weakness.

Yevon had held himself together long enough to attend the meeting with the High Council, and then return to their quarters. At that point, he'd given in to the overwhelming feelings of guilt, and rage, and had torn everything within reach to pieces.

The guards had stoically stood outside their liege's rooms, listening to the wails and shrieks of a man gone mad with grief.

When Mira arrived, she'd ordered them to move aside when they'd attempted to dissuade her from risking her safety by entering the rooms. Against their better judgement, they'd allowed her to pass and waited on tenterhooks for her calls for assistance.

Sambrian knew that they needn't have bothered. Mira and Yevon had always been two halves of a whole. When Mira came to him, Yevon was able to use her as his anchor and calm himself. Unfortunately...he'd dropped into a deep depression that he'd been unable or unwilling to release.

The death of Legolas had hit Yevon more deeply then Sambrian had imagined. True, they'd been friends for years, but Sambrian had not realized how much Yevon depended on the younger man, emotionally.

At his age, Sambrian had lost numerous people to whom he'd been close. Each one had been very hard to deal with, but Sambrian had learned over the years that death was never the end. And while it was hard, knowing that the people he'd loved would not be with him again here, he knew that they awaited him on the Farplane. It made the loss bearable, and Sambrian was able to work through it.

It would appear that Yevon had never had to deal with such a thing. Despite his studies, and his training, personal loss was always hardest to come to grips with, and Yevon was no different. Until he accepted the loss, he would be unable to move past it. Sambrian could only hope he was just as gifted in that area as he had been in every other...

* * *

Legolas sloshed through the shin deep water behind Lisette. It had been several hours since they'd left the underground proper, in favor of the long unused water runoff tunnels. It had gotten too hard to hide from the large number of guards that patrolled the corridors. Even with Lisette's uncanny knack of knowing where to avoid, they'd nearly been caught twice.

"Where are you taking me, anyway, Lisette?" Legolas groaned, as they turned down yet another unremarkable tunnel.

"The runoff comes out near here, and I can let you out through one of the gratings, into the woods. From there you just have to head north to Mount Gagazet..." she said. She tilted her head, and continued, "Someone will help you there.."

Legolas frowned. _Just head north to Mount Gagazet?_

"I can't walk to Zanarkand from here, Lisette." he said, stopping.

"You won't..."she said, turning and continuing down the tunnel.

He sighed, and forced himself to keep going. "Lisette, I'm not sure why you're doing this for me, but I do know it won't put you in Lord Denno's good graces..You should come with me, to Zanarkand. Make a life for yourself there."

Her shoulders hunched, and she shuddered. "Zanarkand...is not safe."

Legolas' eyebrows creased. "Well, no, not at the moment, but we will change that. Don't worry. Yevon's not about to let Bevelle destroy what he's worked so hard to create."

She stopped, turning her pale gaze upon him, considering his words. "Do you think it can be stopped?" she whispered.

"This war? Oh yeah. Trust me. Yevon won't take this lying down, I promise." he grinned at her.

His response seemed to trouble her even more, and she turned away.

Legolas put a hand on her shoulder, concerned. "I didn't mean to frighten you...Yevon's not a warmonger, if that's what you're worried about.."

"I do not see his face..." she said, faintly.

_Huh?_

"Well, um. Okay..I can introduce you when we get there, if you like." Legolas smiled at her again, tentatively.

"It must be stopped. It cannot be allowed to happen. We will all _die_...!" Hands over her eyes, Lisette began to wail, rocking back and forth.

Nonplused, and a little unnerved, Legolas tugged at her hands. "No, no, no. We aren't going to die. I'll keep you safe, Lisette...Lisette, listen to me!"

He grabbed both her hands in his own and said, intently, "I promise. If you come with me, I'll do everything in my power to keep you safe from harm."

She blinked, then, and looked at him. "You will, won't you."

Her head tilted and she looked off down the tunnel. "You _will_ keep me safe."

She smiled and held onto his hand. "I shall go with you, Legolas of Zanarkand.

Legolas smiled, feebly. "Um. Good, then." _I think..._


	31. Chapter 31: Reconsidering

The watery sunlight spilled across the floor and pooled at the feet of the small group gathered in the conference hall.

Sambrian frowned at the datapads in front of him. Mira and he had been gathering data and trying to put in some hierarchy of importance, to present to Yevon, when he returned to duty. Unfortunately, Sambrian was not suited to such work, and it showed.

Mira's head was studiously bowed over the screen, and she'd not noticed his lack of enthusiasm. He'd been shuffling through the information that was pouring in from any and all sources, good and useless, and been attempting to determine the difference.

For once, Sambrian was unable to focus his thoughts on the task at hand. The words flitted across the screen, but seemed to make no sense. He rubbed a knuckle across his eyes and sighed.

Mira looked up at the sound and furrowed her brow. "Are you all right, Sambrian?"

Sambrian glanced at her and nodded, wearily. "I am. I am merely concerned about the state of things, at this moment."

Mira laughed drily. "Now why would that be?" She shook her head and grimaced.

"We will get through this." Her mouth quirked as she glanced at the datapads strewn upon the table. "And everything else, as well."

He dropped his eyes, acknowledging her words.

Yevon had sequestered himself in his rooms for the better part of the past month, and it was becoming difficult to appease the Council's increasingly strident inquiries. Their questions were quite valid, Sambrian thought privately. As ruler of Zanarkand, Yevon could not afford such an indulgence as this. Mira had assured him that Yevon was improving, but Sambrian was becoming concerned.

The reports coming in were troubling as well. It was clear that Zanarkand was in a grave situation, and there seemed to be no way to overcome it, save a great and bloody war.

_I warned him of this..._Sambrian thought, and resolutely chased the thought away. It did no good to dwell on things that could not be changed. And the past was ever set in stone, as unchanging as Mount Gagazet.

Sambrian looked up at Mira, considering his words carefully.

"Mira..." he began, slowly. She looked up at him, and at his somber expression, her forehead creased.

He pushed back from the table and turned towards her. "Yevon has been avoiding his duties for quite long enough. It is time for him to resume them."

Mira stared at him. "Sambrian, Yevon is going through a very difficult time..."

He looked at her sternly. "And you are not?"

She blinked. "Leogolas was like a brother to him."

Sambrian smiled gently. "Yevon is, first and foremost, a Summoner, Mira." He looked at her, raising a brow. "He understands the...necessity and naturalness of death, better than the average citizen."

Mira's eyes darkened at that. "There was nothing natural about his death, Sambrian."

He lowered his eyes, acknowledging the truth of her statement. "I cannot debate the manner of his death, Mira. But the fact is, he is dead." He frowned at the bluntness of his own words.

He steepled his fingers, and considered his thoughts. "Grief is a part of life. It honors the sanctity of each living being. But to wallow in it...It is not healthy." He shook his head, ruefully. "Yevon must not be allowed to continue, as he is."

He could see from her face that she was torn between her unwavering loyalty to her husband, and her own desire to see Yevon's dream come true.

"Sambrian..." She began, haltingly.

The door behind them slid open abruptly, and she turned towards the interruption, frowning.

At her shocked expression, Sambrian turned.

Clutching the doorframe was Yevon. Gaunt, unkempt, and expressionless, he looked at the two of them.

Mira leapt up and hurried to him. "Yevon, what's wrong?"

He looked at her. "You...must be tired of me." His voice was raspy from disuse. He cleared his throat and frowned.

Sambrian sat quietly, hoping not to disturb the fragile moment.

"What?" Mira said, and shook her head firmly. "Never, Yevon...I love you."

He smiled thinly, and stroked her hair. "I've been rather self-indulgent, lately." His face clouded, and she reached up to his face, cupping his stubbled cheek.

"You had reason." She said, simply.

He bowed his head and rested his cheek against her hair.

Yevon looked silently at Sambrian, as Mira hugged him fiercely.

Sambrian nodded once, gravely, acknowledging Yevon's decision to return to the living.

* * *

Deena sat cross-legged on her low couch, gazing blankly out the window, datapad forgotten in her lap. The chirrup of the door chime brought her out of her reverie. She blinked, brushing one pale strand from her eyes before crossing to the 'screen.

A tap on the pad brought up the image of Brevin's ruddy face, peering up in the general direction of her apartment. A frown marred her forehead momentarily, before she whipped her head towards the time display.

_Damn, damn, damn_, she muttered under her breath as she scrambled to let Brevin in. That done, she hurried around the apartment, efficiently tucking the day's detritus into their proper places. That accomplished, she set the door to admit visitors, and went off to get coffee started.

Brevin poked his head around the door a short while later. Deena smiled and waved him in.

"I am _so_ sorry, Brevin. I completely lost track of the time!" She smiled at him, apologetically. "I'll be ready in just a bit, if you don't mind waiting?"

"Not at all!" He settled down onto the couch, gingerly. "What had you so enthralled, if I may ask?"

"Oh..." She said, hurrying into the bedroom. "I was working on evacuation plans."

Brevin's brow furrowed. "Planning on going somewhere, are you?"

Pausing in her attempts to fasten an earring, she looked at him. "For Zanarkand, Brevin."

He twisted himself around to look at her. "Why are we evacuating? Is there something wrong with the Spheregrid?"

She looked away, and headed back into the bathroom, calling over her shoulder, "No...but we should be prepared."

"To evacuate." Brevin raised one shaggy brow, archly.

Deena stopped what she was doing and looked at him. "Well, yes," she said, frowning at him.

"If it comes down to us abandoning the city...We're going to be in rather dire straits." he smiled, trying to lighten the mood.

"We already are." She said, flatly.

"Um..." Brevin said, realizing he'd intruded on something that was obviously very important to her. "I didn't mean to belittle your idea. I just...think evacuation may be putting the cart before the horse, so to speak. The Bevellians haven't been back since the spheregrid was put into place."

Deena took a deep breath, trying to reign in her uncharacteristic annoyance. "I just can't see them giving up so easily." She wiped her hands on her skirt, smoothing nonexistent wrinkles.

"Well...It's giving us some breathing room. Hopefully we can come to a diplomatic solution, before it comes to that." Brevin said, trying to cheer her up.

Deena looked at him for a moment, and then sat next to him. "Perhaps you're right. Maybe I'm just letting it get to me."

"And that, dear lady, is why I'm here." Brevin said, attempting to waggle his eyebrows. Deena ducked her head and smiled.

"What has you in such an unsettled mood?"He asked.

"It's the children in B ward." She said, sobering.

The smile slipped off Brevin's face. "Ah."

"We're to capacity at the Home, because their parents were killed." She said. "Bevelle decided to show us their power, and they killed over a thousand innocents."

"I spent most of last night trying to convince Meji that the lightning was just that, and not another attack." She looked at him suddenly. "It's hard to convince a child that there's nothing wrong, when you're just as afraid as they are."

Brevin looked at her, finally understanding.

"And I've come to the conclusion that if we have to evacuate...We have no place to go." She looked up at him. "We'd be easy pickings on the sea, and the only other place to go is Mount Gagazet. I doubt any of our people are up to a trek through the mountains."

She frowned and reached for the datapad. "Perhaps if we dug in...went down, instead of up."

Brevin put his hand over hers, stopping her from diving back in. "Deena..."

"Don't tell me I'm overreacting, Brevin." She snapped, pulling away from him. "I don't want anyone else to have to try to explain to a weeping child why some faceless stranger killed their parents."

She stood, hugging herself. "I just have this terrible feeling that we're teetering on a precipice...one wrong move and everything will just come crashing down."

Brevin thought of the quiet streets, and the empty harbors, and the sterile towers that were supposed to keep Zanarkand safe, and wondered to himself if she weren't right.


	32. Chapter 32: Chance

Legolas listened to the crickets from where he was hiding.

Of all the places he'd pictured himself being, over the years, this was not one of them. He and Lisette were crouched behind a medium-sized rock that had tumbled down the mountain face, trying very hard not to be found by the men looking for them.

Lisette sat next to him, serenely gazing at the landscape. Legolas got the impression that half the time, she was humoring him, and the other half that she was too crazy to know that they were in danger.

She turned a bland face on him and murmured, "They're gone, now."

Legolas scowled and said, "Yeah...I hear the crickets. I know."

They crept out from behind the rock face, attempting to avoid the gravel that kept slipping down the hill and giving them away.

Legolas had spent the better part of the night trying to come up with some sort of plan to get them safely past the patrols and over the mountain without one or both of them dying. All his exhausted mind could think of was various grisly images of their death. As a result, he didn't get much sleep.

So now, here he was, climbing up the side of a mountain he knew he'd never make it over, trying to find a village of people that no one had seen in over a hundred years, try and make diplomatic contact with them, ask for assistance to get home, and warn Yevon and Zanarkand of the terrible danger they were in.

Legolas decided he was going to put in for a vacation when he got back.

He cursed under his breath as he slipped on loose rock, and smashed his knuckles on a rock wall.

Yep, definitely a vacation. Maybe on the other side of Spira.

* * *

Yunalesca shoved the hair off her sweaty forehead and grimaced.

"Tell me again why I'm doing this?" she demanded.

Sambrian gazed at her tranquilly, and said, "The gardens, too, need rebuilding. You seemed suited more to this task, than to hauling large slabs of stone."

He raised one shaggy brow. "Was I incorrect in this?"

Yunalesca scowled at him.

"I'm a Summoner!" she said, indignantly. "Surely there are other things that I should assist with!"

Sambrian simply looked at her. "The Summoner's compound needs our attention. These gardens are a part of the Summoner's compound. Thus are we here."

"Well, yes, but..." She flailed her grimy hands around, searching for the best argument. "My studies are not of plant life!"

Zaon's mouth twitched. Yunalesca's eyes narrowed, dangerously. Zaon's face resumed it's usual bland demeanor.

"Today, we study the cycle of life." Sambrian said, calmly.

"And what does_ dirt_ have to do with that?" Yunalesca exploded.

"Dirt is what is left behind, after mortal remains decompose and return to their basic elements." Sambrian said, patiently.

"Dirt is the foundation that supports the plants, which support animals, which support humans, and so on and so forth."

He looked at her, from under his brows. "Life and Death are ever intertwined." He clasped his hands together, in front of himself. "Without one, you cannot have the other."

"Well, that's fine and all...but Summoners deal with the death part." Yunalesca muttered, grimacing at the patch of earth in front of her.

Sambrian frowned, mildly. "We deal with both, my lady." He looked out over the crumbled buildings of the compound.

"We send the dead to their rest, and that is what we are known for. But we serve those who are left behind, as well. Summoners comfort the grieving, and help them through some of the most difficult times of their lives. We teach people the importance of embracing life and accepting death and bring understanding of the cycles of life and death to all." Sambrian smiled gently. "I forget, sometimes how young you are."

Yunalesca scowled. "I am no child, to be coddled and forgotten." She ripped a weed savagely from the soil.

"Indeed you are not, Lady." Sambrian agreed, sagely. "Although you do play the part well."

Zaon's eyes widened, and he looked at Yunalesca.

Yunalesca glared at Sambrian, and rose to her feet. "How _dare_ you!" She brushed the dirt from her robes angrily and held herself erect, staring down at him.

Sambrian smiled.

"I am the daughter of the High Summoner of Zanarkand!" she snarled.

Sambrian tilted his head, still smiling pleasantly. "Your point being...?"

"You can't treat me like this!" she snapped.

Sambrian's mouth twitched. "Lady Yunalesca, your 'position' as daughter of the High Summoner is nothing more than an accident of birth." He sobered a bit. "In truth, it means very little. You are no more and no less than any other citizen of Zanarkand. And, unlike your Father, you have done very little to earn the respect of your fellow citizens."

Sambrian stopped and looked into Yunalesca's suddenly pale face.

_No one has dared tell her this, before..._ he realized. _But will she listen?_

He knelt down, as well as his still healing leg would allow, and began tidying up the stray bits of weed and detritus from the herb bed. She stood, towering over him for a few moments more, and at last knelt beside him, wordlessly continuing to pull the weeds that had overrun the garden.

Sambrian smiled to himself.

_Where there is life, there is hope._

* * *

Legolas pulled himself up onto the ledge next to Lisette and collapsed gratefully onto solid ground. "What I wouldn't give to just stay here," he groaned with his eyes closed. A gust of icy wind reminded him why that was not an option. He heaved a great sigh and pulled himself to a sitting position and surveyed the area they had found.

The ledge followed a sheer rock wall for another few feet, and then widened out into a fairly wide (and more importantly) flat area that would do for a temporary camp for the night.

Lisette had already begun gathering firewood, and Legolas began ticking off in his head what they'd need to build a shelter.

Lisette had proven herself remarkably efficient as a hunter, and had provided them with most of the meat they'd been eating. Legolas had been able to identify several edible plants, and between the two of them, they were managing fairly well.

His main concern at the moment was the steady decrease in temperature as they ascended. Neither of them was dressed for a trek through the mountains, and it was beginning to take it's toll on them both. He'd had them stuff as much grass into their boots and clothes as they could manage, and it was helping keep the cold out, but not for much longer. And still no sign of the legendary Ronso village.

Legolas was very afraid that either the village had been wiped out, long ago, or that it had never existed in the first place. And if that was so, chances were that neither of them would make it off the mountain, alive.

Lisette was nearly done setting up the campfire, and smiled up at him.

"For someone who's fleeing a rabid band of religious intolerants, you seem remarkably pleased." Legolas commented.

Lisette ducked her head and nodded. "It is strange." She walked over and settled herself next to him. "I have never been so uncomfortable and tired in my life," she said, slowly. "But, also...never more alive!"

Legolas quirked an eyebrow. "Well...let's try and keep it that way."

A frown crossed his face, as he felt the tiny hairs on the nape of his neck rise up. Slowly he raised his eyes, scanning the featureless rocks around them, trying to determine the cause.

"What is it?" Lisette murmured, picking up his sudden tension.

"We're being watched." Legolas said quietly, and looked for anything nearby that could be utilized as a weapon.

His questing fingers closed on a medium sized branch that they'd gathered for the fire. _Well, it's better than nothing_, he thought, grimly.

"When I say so...run." he muttered to Lisette, settling his grip more firmly.

She swallowed, and nodded, shifting herself to move quickly.

He stood, trying to look as if he were simply going to put the branch on the small pile they'd started in the firepit.

At his sudden movement, the creature stepped out of the shadows. "RUN!" Legolas, shouted, leaping across the pit in front of the creature.

Lisette scattered into the brush, as Legolas brought the chunk of wood down, hoping to crush its skull.

It was much stronger than he'd hoped. It caught the branch on Legolas' downswing, and wrenched it from his grasp, snarling. Legolas watched despairingly as the creature hurled it into the darkness and turned back to him.

He hurled himself backwards, out of its reach, and scrabbled for a good sized rock. It leapt across the clearing, landing only a scant foot away from him. He dove away, rolling to dodge its grasp. He landed awkwardly, straining his shoulder, but such concerns were far removed from his consciousness at that point.

He came up, panting, and dove at the creature's midsection, hoping to hurl it to the ground. But it was too fast for him, and turned aside as he closed on it. It was wary now, tail lashing as it circled him.

Legolas mentally ran through his limited options as he looked frantically for an opening. His weapon skills were useless without a weapon, and his wrestling skills wouldn't work very well against an opponent with longer reach, more mass, and wicked claws. And his mage skills were, well, nonexistent. His only option, it seemed, was to try to escape. And that didn't look like much of an option, at this point. He was quite sure that if he turned and ran, the thing could out run him in a heartbeat.

He swallowed, and looked at his opponent, searching for weaknesses.

As his panicked thoughts swirled through his head, it suddenly occurred to him that the creature hadn't actually taken advantage of his distraction, however slight. _What is it waiting for? _he wondered.

Acting on impulse, he stopped his movements. Obviously startled, the creature glanced into his face, and seeing no threat, stopped moving as well. After a moment, it straightened up to its full six foot or so hight and frowned at him. At least he thought it was frowning.

"What do you _want_ from us?" Legolas demanded, frustrated.

It appeared startled at his words. "You attack Navar!"

Legolas blinked. It could speak!

"What? Who's Navar?" he said, bewildered.

The creature showed its teeth.

"Navar!"it snarled, and thumped its chest.

"Oh."Legolas murmured. "I thought...well, I thought you were going to attack us, you see.."

Navar looked insulted. "Navar wait until you notice Navar at fire. Navar not hide! Navar not attack!"

Legolas decided not to mention thinking Navar was a fiend. Legolas was fairly certain it wasn't often that one met a six foot tall, blue furred, lionesque sentient creature. Certainly Yevon would forgive him for the faux pas.

"You have my deepest apologies, Navar." Legolas bowed, for good measure. "We have been under a great deal of duress, these past few days." Legolas started, suddenly. _'We' indeed! _he thought. _Lisette!_

"I'm sorry, but I must find my companion. She is undoubtedly concerned." he said, hoping Navar would understand.

Navar raised a heavy brow, disdainfully. "Female there...behind rock." he said, pointing with one heavy claw. It was clear what he thought of her hiding skills.

Legolas smiled tightly, and headed for Lisette.


	33. Chapter 33: Introductions

Brevin sat behind his desk peering moodily at his datascreen. He'd taken to leaving the news stations up and running in one corner, to keep up with any developments. He figured it wasn't much, but it was the only way he could think of, to help Deena.

He was beginning to worry about her even more than usual. Her fervor in finding a way to keep every last citizen safe from any possible danger was bordering on the obsessive. Normally he'd send her home to rest and take it easy, but he knew that was when she obsessed the most. Her work at the Hall was the only thing keeping her from devoting all of her free time to the problem. At least here, the children distracted her.

His mouth quirked as he noticed a newscaster announcing the latest round of evac training courses. _Well, it keeps them busy,_ he mused.

Deena had already told him that there was no possible way to safely evacuate every citizen in Zanarkand, should they ever come to that. The logistics were staggering. And yet, she kept trying.

Running his hand over his ruddy face, Brevin glared balefully at the stacks of official notices that had been flooding his box, for several days now. There were maps for central shelters, that had been built several stories beneath the ground and lists of possible emergency supplies that should be kept on hand at all times.

Brevin had heard that there had been a number of brawls and arrests in the entertainment districts, as tensions got too high. _Stupid people don't realize they're only making it worse,_ he thought to himself, angrily.

He'd had to hire a full-time counselor for the children, to help with the impossible stresses that they were trying to deal with. They now had a full-time security team, as well. Brevin sighed, heavily. The insanity had crept into Zanarkand and now it seemed that everyone was jumping at every shadow and rumor.

Brevin shoved himself away from his desk with a grunt, fed up with it all. This wasn't how life should be lived.

He palmed the door open, irritated, and knowing there wasn't much cure for it. Best he could do would be to walk it off. He shoved his hand through his hair, impatiently, and headed down the corridor.

He could feel the tension in his neck and jaw, and he rolled his shoulders, trying to ease it a bit. Gods forbid he ran into someone right now.

Brevin found himself striding along the hallway as if he was trying to outrun something. _Maybe I am,_ he thought grimly.

A faint whimper snapped his head around, and stopped him in his tracks. His eyes darted back and forth, looking for the source.

There...the coat rack. He frowned at it, and it whimpered again. Then a faint sob.

He folded his bulk down into a hunker, and peered into the darkness underneath. A tiny girl, no more than five, was huddled next to the frame.

"Well, what are you doing in _there_?" he mused out loud. She looked at him, eyes wide and lip trembling. It was clear that he was intimidating her, even if he hadn't intended to.

He settled down onto the floor, pants be damned. "That seems terribly uncomfortable, in there.." he tried. She looked down at the floor, one small finger creeping towards her mouth.

"Hm...I haven't told you my name." he said. "I'm Brevin. I work upstairs." He smiled hopefully at her. She seemed to have calmed a bit and was listening to him, although still a bit wary.

"It's kind of hard to have a conversation like this for me," he said, gravely. "I'm a bit big to fit under the coats like that, and I can't see you very well, in the dark."

After considering his words for a bit, she slipped out from under the coats, and stood looking uncertainly at him. She seemed terribly small to him, in her oversized sweater and worn shoes. Her fine blonde hair surrounded her small skull like a nimbus, making her look frail from his vantage point.

He reached over, and meeting no resistance, pulled her onto his lap, wiping the faint tear tracks from her cheeks with a thumb.

"Now. What's got you tucked up into the coats like that?"he said, tilting his head to see her downcast face.

"Tarvo tol' us 'bout the 'vac thing, and I dowanna be losted."she said in a rush.

"Vac...?"he said, confused. "Oh! Evac...you're worried about them leaving without you?" he wondered.

She nodded, wordlessly.

"Well...Hiding won't help that."he said solemnly. "If you aren't where you're supposed to be, they might very well not find you." He patted her shoulder. "I'd say not to hide off like that."

"But...if you're really worried about it..." he said quickly, seeing his words weren't reassuring her. "Try this."

He set her back on the floor and heaved himself up. "Say 'Here I am!'" he said, looking down at her encouragingly.

She tilted her head back to look up at him. Her face wrinkled in thought, and then she mumbled something.

He grinned. "What?"

She ground her toe into the floor, tucking her hands behind her. "You said to say 'Here I am."

"Well goodness! I couldn't even hear you! You have to be loud, like _me_!" Brevin said, chuckling a bit. "Here. Let me show you!"

He put his hands on his hips and drew himself up. "HERE I AM!" he roared, head back.

Doors slammed open all along the hall, as teachers, counselors, students, and various security personnel rushed to see what had made that noise.

Brevin chuckled to himself at the disgruntled looks, when they realized it was just their insane Director who was disturbing the peace. The tiny girl at his feet gazed at him in wonder.

"See? Won't be lost for long, if you can do that!" he said, grinning at her.

She grinned back at him, saying, "But I'm not big as you!"

He tapped a meaty finger along his chin, pretending to consider the problem. "Well, then, you'll just have to climb up on the tallest thing in the room."

She looked around intently, and then back at him. Her doubtful gaze went from his worn and practical work shoes up and tilted all the way back to gaze at his shaggy head.

He roared with laughter and said, "Okay, yes, I'm the tallest thing here."

Grinning, he swept her up onto his broad shoulder, and said, "There. Let's try that again."

He held up a finger. "One...two...three!"

"HERE I AM!" she hollered, face squinching up with the effort.

Brevin chuckled. "Yes.. yes, you are."

_This_ was what life was about.


	34. Chapter 34: Discoveries

Yunalesca groaned and rolled over in her bed as the sunlight struck her face, interrupting her dreams. Inexorably, the maid continued around the room, opening the heavy curtains, flooding the room with light.

"Good morning, Lady!" She said brightly, noticing Yunalesca's movements. She walked over, holding a lightweight morning wrap, and waited for Yunalesca to acknowledge the inevitable.

The staff had been instructed by Lord Sambrian that Yunalesca was no longer to be allowed to run roughshod over them. He had made it clear that she was to be treated with the same respect that she gave the staff.

The next time that Yunalesca had furiously told the maid to get out of her rooms, and hurled the pillow at her, she was stunned when the maid calmly stripped the bed, with Yunalesca still in it. She'd been unceremoniously dumped on the floor, and ignored. She soon learned that her own behavior shaped the treatment she received at the hands of the staff. Furious, she might be, but not completely foolish.

Yunalesca rolled out of bed, grumpily, and allowed the maid to help her into the wrap. "Thank you." she murmured, and strode into the outer room, where her breakfast was served.

Lord Zaon looked up as she entered, rising to his feet and bowing. "Good morning, my lady." he said.

Yunalesca blinked. "Did we have an appointment?"she said, archly. She strode over to the table and seated herself, as Zaon hurried over to assist her.

Zaon settled himself into his habitual watchful stance and said calmly, "Not as such, no. However, Lord Sambrian contacted me, and asked me to accompany you to the Central Healing Facility, as soon as you were ready."

She smiled ironically. "As soon as I'm ready, hm?"

Zaon's mouth twitched. "I believe he has full faith in your promptness, my lady."

Yunalesca rolled her eyes as she smoothed the napkin over her lap and began eating.

* * *

Less than an hour later, Yunalesca found herself walking along the central walkway, trailed by Zaon, on her way to the Central Healing Facility.

"Why are we going here, again? Besides the fact that Sambrian told me to?" Yunalesca demanded.

"Lord Sambrian did not disclose this fact to me, Lady." Zaon replied, giving ever so faint an emphasis on the 'Lord'.

"And you never thought to ask, I suppose?" Yunalesca said, rolling her eyes and sighing.

"It is not my place to question Lord Sambrian's decisions, Lady." he said, blandly.

Yunalesca stopped, turning to face Zaon. "And you're okay with that?"

Zaon looked at her blankly.

She put her hands on her hips. "You'll do whatever they say, and not think about it? What if you don't want to follow their orders?"

Zaon smiled faintly. "My job is simply to guard you, my lady. Not to question the reasons of my betters."

"Your _betters_? What makes them better than you?" she scoffed.

Zaon wondered if she noticed the irony. "I hardly believe that I am qualified to question the proper training of an apprentice summoner."

"Oh, you're impossible!" she said, spinning on her heel and marching off.

Zaon hurried to catch up.

Sambrian was waiting for them in the main entry, when they arrived. Zaon bowed, as Sambrian rose from the bench he'd been resting on and came to greet them. Yunalesca hurriedly copied the movement, looking flustered.

A smile flitted across Sambrian's lips and he bowed back. "Greetings, Lady Yunalesca, Lord Zaon."

"Today, we will be assisting the resident Summoners here at the Central Healing Facility. They have been understaffed since the incident that destroyed the Summoner's compound." Sambrian said. "I expect you to remember that you will be assisting in an official capacity those who are struggling with fear, worry, and grief. Our duty is to ease them, as much as we may. This is not a training exercise, nor a theoretical situation." He tucked his hands into his voluminous sleeves, and turned away, heading towards the wards.

Yunalesca swallowed, and seemed to gather herself, before following Sambrian.

Zaon noted approvingly that whatever else she might be, Yunalesca looked to become a fine Summoner. He could see her face settle into calm assurance, and her smooth, graceful stride gave her a confident and competent look.

He wondered if she practiced in front of a mirror, and smiled to himself.

* * *

Legolas tucked his hands into his armpits and wondered for the hundredth time how the histories had never seen fit to mention that the Ronso tribe of legend consisted of creatures covered in bright blue fur, and sporting _tails,_ by the gods! He thought that it would be something _he _would have mentioned, if he'd been the one writing it.

He stared at the broad back of Navar, as they wallowed through the snowy expanse. Navar wasn't even out of breath, and they'd been walking for the better part of an hour, now. He wondered what kind of an impression he and Lisette were making, stumbling along in his wake.

He caught Lisette's arm as she slipped on loose snow, and hauled her upright. She smiled at him gratefully, and kept going.

Both of them were looking rather worse for wear, at this point. His hair was tangled by the wind and snow, and his lips were chapped from the cold. His beard had grown out, and he could feel the edges of his moustache tickling his lips. Lisette's clothes, already ragged when they'd met, had hardly improved in their flight, and he could see quite a few new rips, where the grasses were beginning to wiggle their way out, giving her a strong resemblance to a scarecrow. Her skin, already pale, had bleached down to translucence in the cold, and he worried about her.

Navar stopped, suddenly, and Legolas nearly plowed right into him.

"Village, there." he said, pointing into the snow ahead of them.

Legolas peered into the whiteness and gave up, murmuring, "If you say so."

Just a short while later, Legolas saw what Navar had already noted. A broad paved walkway had been cleared of snow, and lead into an area sheltered from the fierceness of the wind and snow, protected by the mountain itself.

Several heavy tents had been erected, and a few shelters had been erected in small caverns along the rock wall. A large fire had been built in the center of the village, and a few Ronso were seated around it, seemingly unconcerned by the temperature.

Lisette and Legolas followed Navar into the central area, and he dropped the string of small animal carcasses he'd been retrieving, when Legolas had been so kind as to attack him.

The seated Ronso sprang to their feet when they noticed Legolas and Lisette, reaching for heavy staves that looked as if they could pack a painful wallop, when used.

Legolas heaved a heavy mental sigh and made yet another note to himself, when he realized that Navar was obviously an adolescent of his kind. The males that were advancing on them angrily were all well over seven or eight feet, and these all had a heavy, deadly looking horn protruding from their foreheads.

_This just keeps getting better and better_, he thought wearily.


	35. Chapter 35: Pressure

Mira hunched over her datascreen, absorbed in culling as much useful information on Bevelle as she could track down. Page after page of useless tidbits scrolled past her eyes, as she searched for anything that could be useful in this conflict.

Yevon was at the secretary's desk nearby, working through the backlog of requisition notices and whatnot that had accumulated over his absence. Mira had suggested that they work together, if nothing else but for the comfort of each other's presence.

Mira tried not to let Yevon know how much she was still worried about him.

He had resumed his duties, but the dynamic and forceful man that had taken the mantle of leadership so many years ago still had not returned. Some vital spark was gone from him, and Mira worried that it would not return.

She drummed her fingers on the console idly, and wondered what more they could do to help him through this. Sambrian told her bluntly, that this battle was not hers to win. He must find his own strength and regain his balance on his own, or he would never be able to stand alone, again.

Privately, Mira felt that Sambrian could not appreciate the bond that marriage forged, since he'd never married.

Mira could no more ignore Yevon's pain, then she could stop herself from breathing.

Yevon heaved a frustrated sigh, and pinched the bridge of his nose, a sure indicator of a headache. Mira stood up and went over to him.

"Ready for a break?"she smiled.

"I can't afford to keep taking breaks, Mira." he said, impatiently. He turned from the desk and faced the window, closing his eyes.

Mira frowned. "You shouldn't overwork yourself..." she began.

"I'm not overworking myself, Mira!" he snapped.

Mira's eyes dropped.

He leaned forward and rested his forearms on his thighs, sighing again. "I'm sorry. That was rude, and I'm sorry."

Mira swallowed and rested a hand lightly on his shoulder. "I shouldn't push, so. I suppose I wouldn't want you hovering around me, were our positions reversed."

Yevon reached up and clasped her hand lightly with his own. "It's not your fault. I _am_ tired. But I can't relax when I know that I'm failing my people like this."

He stretched his leaned frame and stood, walking over to the window and rested his forearm on the frame, gazing out to sea. "It keeps going around and around in my mind. How can we resolve this peacefully? How can we end this?"

Mira licked her lips. "I...don't think this _can_ end peacefully, Yevon."

Yevon turned his head slightly and waited for her to go on.

Mira gazed at him, unhappily. "Denno attacked Zanarkand because of what we are, of what we represent. Because we don't fit into his narrow view of the world. And to throw away our beliefs and deny who we are for the sake of peace is against _everything_ we are, Yevon. Sometimes ideals _must_ be fought for."

Her eyes dropped, hating the idea that her words were yet one more crack in the mortar of his dreams.

"And if those ideals are lost in the process?" he said, softly.

Mira had no answer.

* * *

Deena sat behind the desk with her chin propped on one hand and stared off into the distance, lost in her own thoughts.

It was a night for such introspection. The weather had been rainy for the past few days, and the steady patter of rain against the large windows of the commons room was a bit hypnotizing.

It was nearly bedtime at the Children's Hall, and most of the children were in the commons room at this time of nigh, watching vids, chattering to each other, or playing the secretive and esoteric games with which children indulge their imaginations.

Deena's eyes lit on Ky, off to one side, surrounded by the younger children. He was carefully showing them a blitzball move that he'd been practicing on for several days, now. Deena smiled to herself, thinking of the changes she'd seen in Ky, in the past year.

Ky had at last come out of his shell, and had begun unofficially watching over the younger children in the Hall. He'd taken to reading them stories, sharing his own experiences with them, and helping them cope with their fears.

They didn't seem to mind or even notice his aversion to strong light, anymore. They shared a common bond, with all the children fearing a repeat of the attacks that had destroyed so many lives, and Ky's affliction didn't change that.

She reluctantly turned her attention back to the datascreen in front of her. Brevin had sent her another article about shortages of the medicinal plants that were used in some of the medical compounds used by the healers. The plants were found on one of the smaller southern islands in abundance, but the shipments had dropped off with the violence and threats of retribution by Bevelle.

Deena added the information to her list of things to bring before the council in the next session. She leaned back and put one hand on her neck, rubbing unsuccessfully at a kink. Too many hours in front of the datascreen, she supposed. But what else could she do?

"Are you okay?"

Deena started, blinking back to awareness, to see Ky standing nearby.

"Goodness, Ky, you startled me!" she said, putting her hand to her chest.

Ky looked at her solemnly. "You looked upset about something."

"Oh...nothing, really. Just thinking." she said, smoothly. She reached out and darkened the datascreen.

Ky just looked at her. _He has the most unnervingly direct gaze for someone his age_, she thought sourly.

"Thinking about Council things?" he said.

She looked at him. "Those aren't things I'm allowed to discuss, Ky."

"We know." he said, softly.

"We?" she said, puzzled.

"All of the kids here know what you do, Deena." He tilted his head. "Kind of cool, actually."

She blinked.

"You work for everyone that usually gets forgotten." He shrugged. "If something gets improved, you are usually the one behind it."

Deena was flabbergasted. "I had no idea anyone really felt that way about it."

Ky's lips quirked. "I know."

Deena felt a bit flustered at that. "Well..um..." She could feel her cheeks reddening. "Thank you, Ky."

She saw a fleeting gleam of his teeth, as he grinned.

"It's okay, though. I know you're not supposed to get everyone worried." Ky said, finally. "But I think that this latest thing with Bevelle has everyone upset."

Deena frowned. "Latest thing?"

Ky looked at her, oddly. "The embargo."

"And how do you know about _that_?"she said, looking at him narrowly.

Ky ducked his head. "No one pays much attention to me, Deena. I hear things, sometimes."

Deena waited. "Well, I usually stick to the darker areas, and people don't always notice me." he said, looking a bit abashed.

"I'm sure it hasn't occurred to you to enlighten them?" she said, wryly. "It's generally called eavesdropping, at that point."

She shook her head, smiling despite herself. "At any rate, what have _you_ heard?"

Ky looked up at her, gauging her expression. "Just that Bevelle is keeping anyone from making shipments. And that they won't be stopping anytime soon."

Deena sighed and closed her eyes, wishing she had a simple answer. "It's common knowledge that we've been having difficulties obtaining some articles, but we are still trading with a number of cities for goods that we need. We just...need to find different suppliers for the rest."

"But what if Bevelle stops them all?" Ky said. "I've heard a lot of people who think that we shouldn't be so passive. If we don't do something soon, it may get to be too late."

Deena struggled with the desire to treat Ky like the other children, and tell him that everything would be okay. But Ky was smarter than that, and he'd earned her respect.

"I don't know, Ky." she said, finally. "Zanarkand doesn't want war. War should always be the absolute last solution to problems. And even then..." She shook her head. "War means that both sides lose. No matter who wins."

She looked at Ky, wishing that she could tell him something positive. The problem was that Bevelle wasn't responding to reason. No diplomats had been allowed to contact them, since the disastrous expedition a few months back. This latest campaign by Bevelle to isolate them was destroying the city's morale as well as it's trade. The sphere grid was protecting the city from physical attacks, but couldn't protect them from the psychological warfare at which Bevelle seemed to be excelling.

_We have to do something, soon._ Deena thought to herself.


	36. Chapter 36: Unsent

The throne of Zanarkand had been crafted by the founders of Zanarkand nearly two hundred years before Yevon's birth. It was , by and large, merely a symbol of the power those who sat upon it. It was hand carved from a single piece of wood, which had several large and beautiful crystals set into it. The high arched wood itself had grown smooth from all the hands that had touched it over the years, and it was as much a work of art as anything else.

Yevon rubbed a hand over th armrest, idly, as he listened to a petitioner speak of an idea for converting waste product into energy. He remembered his first time seeing this throne when he was about fourteen, on a day trip from school. He'd marveled at it then, never imagining that he would one day sit upon it.

He glanced up and saw that there was indeed a small group of students in the viewing gallery this morning, and he smiled at them gently.

Each month, Yevon 'held court' and allowed the public to come and speak directly to their ruler. Sometimes it was public disputes, such as taxes, sometimes inventors, such as today, and often it was diplomatic envoys come to speak with the ruler of the great city of Zanarkand.

The diplomatic envoys had stopped coming some months back. Bevelle had begun to spread their influence past their own borders, and had begun rumors of the 'evil deeds' that had allowed Zanarkand to prosper as much as it had.

Yevon marveled at the ignorance that allowed people to believe such horrible things about people they'd been allied with for so long. City after city had found reasons why they needed to 'remain neutral'.

He'd long since decided that Zanarkand would go on as usual for as long as they could. His people needed to have something to hold on to, and familiar rituals, such as the monthly open court was one such event.

His advisors had told him many times that it was a waste of precious time, but Yevon had laughed at them and asked how he should better spend his time, serving his people, or banging his head against the walls some more?

Yevon knew that Mira was terribly worried about him. He'd seen her furtive glances at him, and knew that his long silences concerned her. He had done his best to assure her, but there was really nothing more he could do.

"...and with just these few adjustments, my lord, we could increase the power to nearly 50% more than it is currently producing." The inventor said, concluding his presentation, and looking at Yevon for some sign of approval.

Yevon raised his head and smiled softly. "That is an amazing display of ingenuity, sir. I am quite impressed with your research and diligence." He leaned forward and nodded at the man.

"Have the specifications sent to the office of industry, and we will see if it can be put into public usage." Yevon straightened up, and gestured towards the records clerk who hovered nearby.

The young inventor bowed deeply, murmuring his gratitude.

As the young man turned and walked out, Yevon saw a guard rush in through the open door, and begin a frantic conversation with one of the other guards, gesturing wildly.

Yevon frowned and leaned forward, wondering what the problem was. Along the gallery, people began murmuring amongst themselves, also noticing the concern on the young guard's face.

The upper guard said something to the younger man, quietly. The young guard nodded once, and rushed back out through the open door.

Looking decidedly unhappy, the upper guard made his way to Yevon's side and waited for Yevon to acknowledge him. Yevon gestured at him impatiently, and said, "What is it?"

"My lord, the young lieutenant reports that there are..." His face reddened slightly. "...unsent at the gates of the spheregrid."

Yevon went still. The crowd in the gallery murmured excitedly.

"Unsent." He looked at his guard. "At the gates."

The guard looked uncomfortable. "Yes, my lord." He paused, considering his words. "Asking for you."

Yevon looked flummoxed. "Has the boy gone mad? Unsent hardly retain the presence of mind, nor the inclination to knock politely at the gates and ask for an audience!"

"I know, my lord. But he insists that there is an unsent, and several fiends who are demanding to speak with you." the guard said, unhappily.

Yevon smiled, tightly. "Well, then. Who am I to deny them? Lead on."

* * *

Word spread rapidly, and by the time Yevon had approached the landing pad for the transport that would take him directly to the heavily guarded gate point, his personal guard had more than tripled. Yevon was just glad that Sambrian was busy. He had a sneaking idea that Sambrian would put a stop to these proceedings, ruler or no, if he caught word of them.

Yevon couldn't imagine what had happened to make the guard think that there were unsent at the gates. And even if it _were_ an unsent, it was surely no threat to him; he was the High Summoner of Zanarkand. He could send a spirit to the Farplane with very little effort at all.

The transport lifted clear of the pad, and headed towards the outskirts of the city. Yevon looked out the viewport at the vista spread out below them. The sun was beginning its downward march into the sea, and the city was bathed in the warm glow of the sunset. The towers glowed like candles against the backdrop of the surging waters. A few personal water craft floated lazily in the harbor, and here and there, seagulls circled lazily, searching for tidbits left behind by the fishing boats.

Yevon's fist clenched as he thought again of the outrageous claims that Zanarkand was home to depraved and evil people. How could anyone think the peace and prosperity that his people had achieved had been through deceit and treachery?

The transport tilted a bit, descending towards the landing pad. The guards settled their armor and readied themselves. Yevon took a deep breath through his nose, and slipped into a light trance, trying to calm the rage that seemed to need less and less excuse to boil to the surface.

The door slipped open and his guard spilled out onto the pad, looking for potential threats. Although he knew it was standard procedure, Yevon thought to himself that it was unlikely they wouldn't have been informed if there had been a problem.

Satisfied that there was no threat, his primary guard nodded the all clear, and allowed Yevon to leave the transport. They walked across the pad, heading for the East Gate of the spheregrid.

The face of Mount Gagazet loomed in the near distance, cold and white. Poets had written sonnets regarding the beauty of its hights, and looking at it now, Yevon could see some of the immortal appeal.

A cluster of guards stood between him and a clear view of the gate. Yevon frowned impatiently. At a word from his primary guard, the rest of the warriors came to attention and stepped out of the way, weapons at the ready. Yevon strode forward, presenting a calm face to the guards. Whatever he faced, it would be with the grace and courage of his people.

He began to hum the chant of dissolution under his breath, falling quickly into the mind set that allowed him to sense the souls of the dead. His hands moved of their own accord into the beginning positions that he'd learned so long ago.

The creatures standing at the gates didn't seem particularly violent or enraged, as most fiends were. If anything, then seemed oblivious to the significance of his actions. He stopped, tilting his head, and considering them.

"Yevon of Zanarkand?"one of them growled.

"I am he." he replied, nonplused.

From behind the creatures clustered around the portal, a familiar voice bellowed, "About damn time! Yevon, what gives with making us wait all day?"

White faced with shock, Yevon watched as the form of his best friend pushed his way past the creatures that had so terrified the guards.


End file.
